#and the ear mold that sits in your ear

[escapistfantasymanual]

life hack:

glue your falling-apart hearing aid together. it'll be fine, probably.

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Toji waking you up with soft kisses and gentle caresses at almost two in the morning because he wants to (prone) bone you. You hum in question of all his touching, and he leans in close to your ear to murmur what he wants. You shake him off and close your eyes, trying to fall back asleep, but he interrupts you again and again with his relentless pleads. "Please, mama?" "I'll be so gentle. Please?" "Please, pretty girl?" "Baby, please?"

You roll over onto your stomach with a tired sigh and a mumble of, "Do what you want to me. I'm staying asleep."

He loves you so much. For much deeper reasons than sex, but this is definitely a peak 'my girl is the best' moment for him. With zero hesitation, he sits up and removes his minimal sleep attire—his boxers. He pulls the blanket off your lower body, revealing your legs, and lifts up your shirt, exposing even more of you.

"Oh, baby," he says, voice low as his hands keep moving. "Hiding all of this under that enormous shirt." He rides his hands down your waist and over your hips, before tugging your underwear down and off. He leans forward, and he truly meant it when he said he would be gentle with you. He slid into you as carefully as he could. He coos at you when you squirm and whimper at the intrusion, pacing himself as he molds his body into yours. He turned into a weighted blanket for you, making up for the actual blanket he peeled off of you once he lies down.

He mumbles breathy appreciations into your ear, in the form of praise and actual gratitude, as he rolls his hips into you.

"So pretty and soft. So fucking perfect, baby," he says, ending it with a needy groan. You could fall asleep comfortably with all the rocking if it weren't for the stimulation being offered below. You made your fair share of sound, and Toji loved it despite the fact that you told him that you would be sleeping. You let out a few muffled whimpers, some gasps and shuddered exhales. Nothing extreme because he's not blowing out your back. It feels more like a form of love making.

When he cums, he's groaning and panting into your ear, sloppily kissing the side of your face while squeezing the life out of you in his arms, like he has the most severe case of cuteness aggression. He just lies there for a minute, wondering if he should make you cum, too, but within the time it takes for him to bounce back, you're dozing off again. He sighs, contentedly, his needs satisfied by you, as always. He presses one more kiss to your temple before he crawls off of you and heads towards the bathroom to fetch a towel to clean you up with.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—jjk men and the positions they fuck you in

featuring: gojo, toji, nanami, choso, geto

content: smut, praise, ass slapping, belly bulge, breeding, hair pulling, degradation, cervix touching mention n more

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨. Doggy style

There’s just something about having you on your hands and knees that Gojo loves. His hands on your hips as he pounded roughly into you, black blindfold covering his crazed eyes at the feeling of his thick cock thrusting into your sopping cunt.

You were moaning loudly, sweat coating your forehead as Gojo’s hips slammed onto your ass. His length grazing against your gummy walls before finding itself deep. You mewled. “Satoru, feels so good.” Whimpering shakily when you felt his tip pressing into your g spot, his heavy balls hitting your sensitive clit with each movement.

“Nnhg- ah, S-satoru,” you cried, your lips parting in heavy breaths and mewls as Gojo rutted into you like there was no tomorrow. A grin on his face when one hand reached up for your hair. Pulling your head up and forcing you to look at your slut out face in the mirror.

“Look at yourself.” he grinned, “such a pretty little slut f’me hmm?” Watching as you watched yourself with teary eyes. Your tits bouncing lewdly as you gripped the bed’s sheets harder. “Taking my cock so fucking well.” His large hand kneading at the flesh of your ass before landing his hand down onto it.

A choked cry escaping your mouth as you clenched down on him. Your eyes rolling back and your toes curling as Gojo molded your pussy on his cock. “Sa-tor— haah” you let out a moan when Gojo leaned down to press his back against yours.

The new found position allowing him to fuck you even deeper, heat filling your body at the building coil in your stomach. Gojo’s breath was hot on your ear when he groaned, “Come on slutty girl, make a mess on me, yeah?”

You nodded with a silent scream when Gojo’s hot tongue met your neck, his hand in your hair still forcing you to make eye contact with your reflection as you came undone. Your back arching deep and your body shaking as you gushed around his cock. A cocky smirk plastered on his face watching you squirt around him, his fast pace never slowing down.

“One more.”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢. Full nelson

It started off as something he simply wanted to try, quickly becoming his favorite position to manhandle your body into when he wanted to use your pussy. Lifting you up onto him. Whether he was sitting or standing, bending your legs back onto his shoulders with his arms under your knees. Using your smaller body as his personal breeding fleshlight.

Forcing your pussy on and off his fat cock till you were crying at how deep he was. His tip almost pushing past your cervix entrance as he fucked you on him. Effortlessly using your wetness to stroke his dick.

“To-jiii— nngh, ‘s too much- you’re so deep,” you mewled, your cries shaky as the older man’s cock pierced your insides. Toji groaned with a smirk, bringing your hips flush down harshly onto his cock. The underside of your ass slamming against his hips as he messily fucked into you.

“Such a good pocket pussy for me.” he groaned, his veiny cock rubbing hard against your slippery walls. “Slutty pussy is so fucking tight.” he rasped, his deep voice hot in your ear making you clench down with a cry.

“Tojiii— ahh, ‘m cumming.” you sobbed, screaming out with a hiccup as pleasurable tears stained your cheeks. Your stomach tightening with the outline of the man’s tip bulging through. Toji thrusting up mercilessly into you with a grunt. “Go ahead. Fuck. Squeezing me so fucking tight, gonna break this pussy on my cock.”

His eyes dark as you fell apart. Your puffy eyes rolled back with loud sobs, your body spasming and your toes curling as you breathed heavily. Head falling back into Toji’s neck as you fell off the edge. Pussy gushing messily onto his still thrusting cock.

Toji grinned sadistically, “There we go. Hmm, think you can let out one more f’me?” Knowing very well he’d force one out of you even if you said no.

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢. Riding

Loves to have you ride him. Thinking you’re in charge as you moved your hips back and forth. Moaning and whimpering loudly as you simultaneously stimulated your clit near the base of his cock. You were so tired, you just couldn’t grind against that spot that you needed so bad.

“Kentooo— need your help, make me cum, please.” Nanami smiled teasingly, “My baby can’t make herself come on her own now can she?”

You let out a whine, eyes tearing up with a pout as you began to bounce on him. “Uh uh, need you Kento— please daddy.”

Nanami smiled, “My pleasure sweetheart.” Grabbing hold of your hips to still your rhythmless movements. Pressing a kiss to your lips before guiding your hips up and down his cock, thrusting roughly up into you making you cry out.

His dick fucking messily into your wet cunt, your mouth hung open in loud moans as he effortlessly slammed up into you just how you needed it. You mewled, “K-ken.. nnhg, Kento— haah, so good.”

Your whimpers were shaky as your boyfriend did all the work for you. His thick cock grazing harshly against your gummy walls as it stretched you out, stuffing your tight pussy to the max. “Daddy,” you breathed, your eyes rolling back as you felt yourself getting close.

Head fuzzy as you became a mess on him. Nanami’s large hand reaching up to grab your chin. “Look at me when you cum sweetheart.” Your glassy eyes meeting his as you fell apart, body trembling when Nanami helped you grind along his thighs.

A broken mewl leaving your mouth as you creamed his cock, clenching down on him with a string of moans.

Nanami grunted. “That’s it. Good girl, give me another one hmm?”

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨. Missionary

He’s a simple man. As long as he is able to touch you while looking at your pretty face then he’s happy. His hips rutting sloppily into you as he moaned and whined. His movements rough and fast as he got lost in the tight wetness of your slippery cunt.

His eyes filled with want, watching lovingly as you moaned his name. “You’re so t-tight baby— nnhg, feel so good around my cock,” he moaned. Pressing sloppy kisses all over your face with his hand kneading the soft flesh of your breasts. Leaning down to latch his hot tongue around your pert nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud with a groan.

“Baby,” Choso whined, “Sooo good— so tight, ahh- so wet.” Moaning loudly when your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at fluffy black strands as his hips rolled into yours.

“Ch-oso— ah, choso baby. So good.” you cried out, your pussy clenching down hard onto him and your back arching. A shaky whimper leaving both your mouths when your eyes met. Your moans competing with his as you both reached your highs.

Touching as much of each other as you could. Your sweaty bodies pressed onto each other in a room filled with lewd noises.

“Chosoo—“ you mewled, “ ‘M close.”

Choso whimpered when you clenched down on his cock. “Mhm? Cum with me okay baby? Fuck— please cum with me.” he cried out, his thrusts becoming uncoordinated as you both let each other’s name slip past your lips. Moaning and whimpering into each other before you were both shaking.

“You there baby?” Choso mewled, “Please tell me you’re there.”

You nodded, “Uh huh— ahh, ‘m there baby.”

You’re both cumming after that, Choso’s eyes closed and his lips parted in short moans while your eyes rolled back in a silent scream. Gushing onto his cock as Choso bottomed out inside you, stilling his cock deep into your heat before spilling his warm cum.

Both of you panting hard as he fucked you through your high. Choso intoxicated at the way you were becoming stuffed full. “Don’t wanna stop yet baby. One more.”

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨. Cowgirl

Puts you on him in cowgirl position. Watching with a satisfied smirk as you rode him to orgasm. His hands behind his head against his headboard, his eyes swirling with lust as you bounced on his cock with the roll of your hips.

Whimpering loudly as your nails raked down his chest. Frothy ring of wetness forming at the base of his cock, your sopping pussy dripping down onto his thighs as you fucked yourself deep. Crying out shakily when you felt his rounded tip hitting rapidly into your gummy spot. The sensation making you throw back your head with a mewl.

“Suguru— nnhg, so good.” Your head falling back as you rut your hips desperately onto him, your pussy messily gushing onto his skin. “Sugu- ahh, Suguru,” your eyes glassed over with tears as your cunt was stuffed full of his girth.

Geto hummed, “Look at you, such a good little thing for me aren’t ya?” His smirk widening when you could only moan in response, tightening down on him as your body trembled.

“Suguru. ‘M so close.” you mewled, your breathing heavy with your movements becoming uncoordinated. Digging your nails past the barrier of his skin as your back arched, a string of cries falling past your swollen lips.

“Come on pretty,” he groaned, “doing so well, make a mess on my cock yeah?”

“H-haah, nnhg— sugu,” The coil in your stomach snapping as your eyes met your boyfriend’s with a shiver. Mewling loudly at the sight of his pierced lip between his teeth. His chest rising and falling as your cunt tightened.

“That’s it baby, let it out.”

His deep voice was enough to have you falling apart, messily creaming his cock.

“There we go, ‘m sure you can take one more. Don’t stop.”

[screampied]

the thought of being fucked full-nelson style by sukuna while sitting on his throne won’t leave my mind

☆ ໋𓈒 tags. fem! reader, tf! sukuna, full nelson, size diff + size kinks, dirty talk, unprotected, brēeding, mentions of tummy bulge, ( little one, princess, brat . . ) mdni.

“hn. how pathetic,” the notorious demon snickers, baring a single fang as he watches the tip of his swollen angered cock disappear between your runny folds. your thighs shook instantaneously, and he’s lazily slouched back on his throne. a bawled up fist rests near his chin as he watches you with crimson eyes filled of nothing but pure amusement and a mocking head tilt. “don’t make me fall asleep, now. you said you could take me ‘n you’re not even halfway in, princess.”

you bite the inside of your cheek at his playful taunts — so annoying, he just wouldn’t shut up. “ ‘m trying, ‘kuna,” you moan, the stretch of his throbbing cockhead making the center of your mouth salivate. the sleeves of his kimono were slightly ruffled from you tugging on it. he’s got the smuggest grin as your legs part themselves just a bit further. seconds go by before you sigh, slumping into his chest. “help me, ‘kuna. please.”

“so easy to give up,” he mumbles in a gruff tone, bringing one of his big hands to pat the back of your head. you lean into his touch, and as you’re so close to him—you’re engulfed by his natural loud musk. “finee,” he sharply adds, and you gasp once he turns your body around, positioning you in such a way. you’re still placed on his lap but he grabs both of your legs, pulling them upward. “i’ll help you, little one. now now, lie back ‘n allow your king to give you a nice ‘lil stretch.”

your mouth slightly drops, dramatically going agape once he restrains you in a safe manner . .

sukuna’s got you taking his heavy cock again, but this time, you feel the stretch reach everywhere.

he’s got two pairs of arms locking behind your head with the other two clinging onto your thighs. a few sharp nails dig into the fat of your skin, leaving a plethora of marks he’d want to kiss over later. “fuck,” he grunts, hearing the squelching whimpers of your sweet cunt. everything’s slow, it’s as if time stood still as you’re trying to take him. you swallow a lump near the back of your throat that seemed to be growing every second.

the demon sat underneath you was big—he liked pounding you ruthlessly in full nelson because more than anything, he loved seeing you stretched.

the dumb sounds you make, it rings through his ears. speaking of, he gets up close to the lobe of your ear, flicking his forked tongue against it. “s- sukuna,” you whine, and with a ‘pop’, you felt your ass grind right into his lap. already, he’s molding a tiny tummy bulge near the center of your stomach. he’s so deep, once he starts, it’s practically over for your limps. “ngh, ‘s big, ‘kuna.”

“keh, obviously. the perfect size for you, princess.” he groans, tightening his grip just a tad bit against your legs. a hand of his feels the bulging spot near the center of your tummy before he hums. “ ‘kuna’s riiiight fuckin’ here, brat.”

he’s got you in a secure lock. his arms felt warm, and through your blurred peripherals, you glance at his ancient cursed markings that paint all across his bulky, burly arms.

so big, you’re already drooling as you’re bouncing on his cock. the crushing compressing weight of both bodies—mainly yours, causes his throne to be more rickety. it’s whining and groaning out creaks each time your speed against his lap increases, and he’s practically treating you like a doll.

a porcelain doll he didn’t want to ever break.

at least, not yet. .

“fuckin’ nasty girl,” he huffs, one of his hands going toward your face. he smears a palm over your mouth, your pouring drool that streams from the corners of your lips landing on his hand. he’s got a wolfish smile, hearing your babbled whimpers get louder as he’s stretching you silly. “i spoil you too much, spoil this sloppy pussy too much too, hmph.”

“mmph. suku— sukunaaa,” your sweet stammers of moans grew more bouncy as you bucked your swiveling hips further onto him. it didn’t take long before your raw vocal chords start to die out, growing strained and weak. you dramatically elongate each syllable of his name that streams from your lips as his cock plummets into you full. the sweltering hot crown of his shaft kisses all around your gummy walls, reaching so deep that you’re practically yanking roughly on the edges of his silky kimono sleeve. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kuna.”

a throaty chortle from sukuna makes your cunt twitch as he holds you upright — so cute, he’s so much bigger than you, merely dislocating your limbs with a few sets of his arms. he barely had to do anything and yet you were easily overpowered by his body. your mouth hangs open as he’s shoving such thick inches in and out of your slobbering pussy, coating his entire base with your cascading slick. “are you asking or are you just sayin’ y’r gonna cum, little one?”

the insides of your thighs were so sticky, already sticking together and you’re a babbling mess as his dick continues to make you stupid. “lemme cum please, ‘kuna. please, pretty please. stuffin’ me so full, fuuuck.”

“there’s those sweet manners,” he purrs in a husky tone—the back of his lips meets near your ear, giving it a soft peck as you continue to move. you feel a swarm of fluttering butterflies circle inside the pits of your tummy, but you knew that could also be the bulge of his cock constantly rutting deep into your clingy insides. “ah,” he snarls, his tip thrashing vigorously against a certain spongey spot. right there, you let off a sweet squeal as his sloppy thrusts start to punctuate again and again until your candied coated moans reverberate throughout the walls of his regal royal chambers. “fuckin’ shit,” he hisses, and as your hips continue to slam onto him, he’s realizing he’s coming close too.

your eyes were droopy as he’s still got you in such a lewd position — he’s so strong, proudly holding you up to where you’re just a doll bouncing on his cock. his throne remains wailing out moans of its own from the heavy masses of weight jerking on top of the furniture. he’s balls deep into your core, feeling how sweetly your cunt’s being massaged.

“c’mon, messy girl. give it t’ me then. make a sloppy mess on your king, princess,” and his sable-darkened nails gently scrape against your skin. it’s almost soothing, he’s got you in a tight safe chokehold hold and you’re basically chasing your own breath.

you whimper as his warm breaths tickle such a carnal itch in your brain. sukuna allows for you to bounce on him quicker and harder until eventually, your release came. your sweet little cry of finishing rapture was adorable—he hears how even after you’ve creamed all down his cock from the salacious skin slapping, your irregular breaths never falter. “ugh,” he grumbles, feeling his own release eventually match up as if it was right on cue. he bellows out a rough animalistic growl before he’s cummimg, shooting blanks. satiny ropes shoot into you, its balmy hot temperature making you gasp. it’s thick and slimy, pumping you full to the brim so good that it even leaks out.

he loosens his taut grip on your numb legs that were positioned in the air before he sighs—it’s still coming out, his angered tip was tucked inside your pussy as you’re just defeated, collapsed back on his chest.

“good girl,” he pants, hearing the erotic sloshes of his own cum continuing to spurt and ooze deep inside you. now, you’re an entire puddled mess. he creeps a broad open hand between your thighs, dragging a thumb down your slobbering slick to gather up a drop of his filthy dribbling cum. “my, my, look at thaaat,” he coos lowly, and you moan once he resumes, dragging a plump thumb down your sloppy cunt. a bit of his own mess soaks onto his finger before he brings it up to his mouth, lapping at your fresh juices, getting a taste himself. “mhm, she’s as sweetest as she’s ever been,” and you let off a gasp once another one of his palms rudely spanks your wet cunt.

“messy baby.”

[thinkinonsense]

first sleepover with worst!logan *mdni

the two of you hadn't been together very long before you invited logan to stay over; and to say he was hesitant would be an understatement.

"i'm not sure, princess..." he mumbles, getting up from the couch to leave again.

"c'mon lo..." you purr, stopping him by crawling into his lap. "it's getting late anyways."

this was the latest he had been over; almost three am. you weren't sure why he was so insistent on leaving, during the day he would hang around your apartment for hours but when night falls, he's eager to go. none of it made sense to you but to logan, it was crystal.

to start, he didn't want you to get too attached. logan couldn't have a sweet young girl like yourself get wrapped up in his twisted ways. from the moment first saw you in your silky, tiny nightgown he knew he wouldn't last a whole night alone with you.

"ain't gotta worry about me, sweetheart." he said, tucking a strand of lose hair behind your ear. "i can take care of myself out there."

you look up at him with these sad pouty lips that remind logan of one of the many times he's been shot in his lifetime. he loathed how soft you're making him; smoothing ever sharp edge of him until you've molded him into your perfect mate.

"pretty please, logan." you whine, wrapping both arms around his neck. the begging was only making it worse for him.

"i don't want to have to do this, doll face." he sighed, hands unknowingly traveling to your hips and playing with this silk.

"then stay here with me."

logan didn't think he was this weak. the old him would've just barked in your face and stormed out of the apartment already; but instead he's being dragged into your bedroom. the only part of your apartment that logan has never seen. well, technically he's peeked in once or twice but he's never been inside. everything about the room reminded him of you. soft pastels plastered everywhere and cute little decorations littered about.

what really got him was your bed. baby blue sheets with matching pillows and a decorative heart pillow front and center. if wade saw him sitting in this girly bed, logan would never hear the end of it. but for her? he would lay here until he died.

"whatcha think?" you ask him with a small smile.

"looks just like you; pretty and vibrant." he says, one hand on your jaw to pull you into a quick kiss.

logan stripped himself of his shirt before climbing in next to you. both of you laid on your sides with one of logan's arms wrapped firmly around your abdomen in the quiet bedroom. time passes and logan thinks he's finally got himself under control; falling asleep peacefully for once.

"mmm... lo..." you groan softly from your slumber.

logan wasn't an idiot, he knew what has happening. it wasn't easy but he tried to block you out, ignoring your sweet cries for him which had become manageable until you began squirming against him; your volume increasing little by little.

finally, he had to put an end to this torture. both large hands placed on your waist tightly and almost harshly to stop your movements, ultimately awakening you.

"lo, what are you-"

"can't even behave while sleeping, huh?" his voice was hot against your ear. logan's right hand travels up the nightgown to paw at your chest in a way that made your eyes roll back. his left hand travels south, exposing the thin matching material underneath your nightgown which sends your head flying back against his shoulder. the movement exposes your neck to him, biting and licking as he pleases.

"s-s-sorry for... for w-waking you up-p." you apologize, moving against his lower hand.

"no need to apologize, dollface." logan chuckles darkly at the eagerness and candor in your voice. "this is a much better sleepover than i imagined."

[mattsfavoritestar]

masterlist!

I’M YOURS, chris sturniolo

part one !

synopsis… you started to grow tired of chris playing with your feelings so you decided to hang around matt instead. let’s just say he did not like that.

warnings… brothers bsf!chris, mean!chris (he’s such an asshole), toxic!chris, jealous!chris, possessive!chris (bros a walking red flag atp😭😭), sex tape, couch sex, creampie, no protection (WRAP IT B4 YOU TAP IT), big dick chris, rough sex, overstimulation, chris lowkey has a dacryphilla kink, and a breeding kink, kinda public sex (also kinda got caught)

the door opens to a sleepy matt rubbing his eyes. you couldn’t even look at him but you still mumbled a small ‘hi’. you knew matt felt bad for you. he shook his head as he walked back to his room leaving you to close the door on your way in.

did you really sneak out your house to see the one person who despises you? the second you saw his contact flashing on your phone you immediately left. your heart was racing as you made your way to his room. of course the door was left open for you. of course he was laying in his bed scrolling on his phone with zero care in the world.

he looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "you're late," he says, voice dripping with arrogance. you roll your eyes as you took off your shoes,"i had to make sure he didn't notice," you muttered.

chris motions you to come closer. by time you reached within arms length, he pulls you close, his hands rough against your skin. "he doesn't own you," he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. it felt like it had a double meaning but you shrugged it off.

you were pulled onto his lap. chris immediately attached his lips onto yours. your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. he groans as he melts further into your touch. to him you were intoxicating. a drug. he wanted to pull you closer but he didn’t.

then his phone rang. at first he ignored it and continued molding his lips with yours but then messages started spamming his phone. you pulled back and sighed, “just answer it” you say. you got off his lap to sit on his bed. chris stands up then answers the notifications. his fingers moved quickly and his face grew more agitated.

“go home” he stated. you look up at him with a confused look painted on your face. you exhaled, didn’t even want an explanation so you just left. as you made your way up the stairs you saw matt leaving his room aswell.

“want a ride?” he asks. you nodded then followed him out the door. it wasn’t the first time matt took you home after chris kicked you out. matt was also well aware on how your clueless your brother is with you two sneaking around. the ride was silent. but silence with matt was never awkward. it was peaceful.

“no the insane part was the graveyard scene” you laughed. you and matt were sitting in the living room of his house. you’ve been hanging out with him for the past week to avoid chris at all cost to clear your head.

“you should’ve seen your face” you were practically crying how hard you were laughing. matt just smiled at you, he jokingly shoved you making you fall on your side laughing even more. the sound of the door opening stopped the two of you causing you to look up. nick walked in followed by chris.

“i heard you cackling from outside by the way” nick comments as he makes his way upstairs. chris didn’t even glance your way when he walked past. the room felt tense. suffocating. “ m’gonna go get ready for bed” matt mutters as he gets up to leave.

now it was just you and chris. it was so silent you could hear him breathing heavily from the kitchen. instead of saying a smart remark or pouncing on you, he left. he went to his room leaving you alone. you had so many thoughts running through your head. you didn’t even notice the drowsiness taking over your body till you curled up and closed your eyes.

you woke up to the sound of the tv playing and the smell of an all too familiar cologne. he was sitting right next to you. it was almost taunting.

“had fun with matt?” he asked. you wanted to pretend you were sleeping. but of course chris just had to look down right at you. “still not talking to me?” he smiled mockingly. you sat up then pulled you knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. you heard chris shuffle a bit then felt him staring at you.

you didn’t know if it was your nerves or desperation that led to your body heating up. you felt him caress your cheek for a second before he grabbed your jaw and made you look at him. “my dick wasn’t enough for you? had to go see if matt would fill you like i do?” he ask in a taunting matter.

you felt the familiar burn of water pricking in your eyes. chris squeezes your face into a forced pout then pulls you closer. “s’the matter baby? you wanted my attention so bad before” his focus was on your lips, chris didn’t even seem to care about the tears dripping onto his hand.

you pulled back with full force causing you to fall backwards slightly. “m’not doing this anymore” you say trying to wipe your face. chris kisses his teeth then smirks. it wasn’t a playful or sexual one. he was pissed.

“yeah?”

he crawls on top of you, “you really think he can fuck you the way i do?” he snarled. his eyes looked darker than before. one of his hands gripped the top of the couch while the other pinned right next to your waist.

he was leaning down, practically hovering over your lips. that same hand that was by your side now shifted to your thigh. “tell me to stop and i’ll go” he whispered. you shook your head as you took his hand and guided him beyond your waistband and further down. chris closed the gap, interlocking your lips as you gasped at the feeling of his fingers sliding down your folds.

he was going at a slow pace, savoring the feeling. then he stopped and pulled his hands out. “why’d you stop?” you whined. chris smiled at you, “why don’t you go ask matt to play with your cunt?” he taunts. just as the previous tears finished drying, warm fat ones rolled down your cheeks. your emotions were heightened, a mixture of sexual frustration and anger.

you tried pushing him off you but he barely budged. “why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” you cried. you tried to wipe your tears again but this time chris pins your hands down, stopping you. “s’not fair you get to talk to other girls but i can’t even be friends with matt” you sobbed.

chris says nothing. instead he peppers your face with kisses, making sure to kiss ever tear that falls. you tried squirming away but he had you pinned down with he legs on both your sides. “wanna be my only girl ?” he stopped to question. you hesitated before slowly nodding.

chris then fully sits up and pulls out his phone. he turns on the camera then props it on a pepsi can which stood on the coffee table. you watched as he positioned your legs to the side then take off both your pants and underwear. you closed your legs quickly as you looked back at the camera then to chris who was still smiling like a psychopath.

“trust me?” he asks. you replied in agreement before he flipped you over leaving your whole ass on display. a slap to your ass before his fingers dipped into your throbbing cunt. you moaned into the couch while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“c’mon baby show them how much better your pussy is than their’s” chris groans as he curls his fingers. he was stretching you, preparing you for his cock. his fingers slipped out of you and was replaced by a slap on your cunt. chris pulled himself out of his pants. he teases your clit with his tip then leaned to hover over you.

“don’t think i forgot about you ignoring me all week” he whispered into your ears before roughly buried himself deep into your cunt. you let out a choked moan. you had no time to adjust before chris started rutting his hips making sure you feel every inch, every vain.

“chris-“, you could barely get words out your mouth, “matt- room”. chris pulls you up by the neck, holding your stomach in place with his arm. “let him hear how good i’m making you feel” he kisses your neck, “maybe i should send him this video too. show him how much of a whore you are for me” he taunted.

you could feel him kissing your cervix with every thrust. the pain was overthrown by delicious overwhelming pleasure that made your head fuzzy and blank. it was like he was fucking you as hard as he could. you couldn’t even hear him mocking your hiccups or telling the camera how he owns your pussy.

“all yours baby m’all yours. only you” he groans into your ears. you reach to grabbed the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. it was wet and sloppy, you were drooling and couldn’t focus on his lips. you couldn’t even tell him that you were close but the constant clenching told him already.

you whined as you felt yourself grow more sensitive. “go ahead baby, cum on your dick” he says onto your lips. you tugged at the hair the curled on his neck as your vision went white and your legs started shaking. chris didn’t stop his pace. instead he went faster.

he let you drop back onto the couch and grabbed your hips. this time he put one of his legs up causing him to hit a whole new angle. the overstimulation was a mixture of torture and utter bliss. he looked to the camera then let out a breathy laugh. “look how fucked out you are” he coo’d, “your dick feels this good, yeah? fucking speechless”.

chris’s rhythm finally starts to falter but his grip on your waist grew tighter. “m’gonna stuff my pussy so full, not gonna waste a drop” he groans. a final harsh thrust followed by pumps of a thick warm substance filled you to the brim.

he pulls out with a soft whine. chris then goes to stop the video before pausing. he noticed you haven’t said anything nor made a sound. he turned around to see your face smushed into the couch, drooling pooling by your mouth. your eyes looked heavy as if you were falling asleep you were were falling asleep.

chris pulled up his pants, turning off the tv, then picked you up not even bothering to pick up your clothes. as he walks towards the stairs he smiles to himself noticing matt’s door wide open.

xoxo, kairo

[todorokies]

WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE LOW - logan howlett

contents 𝝑𝑒 : fem!reader, nsfw, cockwarming, some fluff & angst (?) got mixed up in this, implied legal age-gap, grumpy old man logan (written with ‘logan 2017’ in mind but he isn’t sick), intimacy scares logan but he tries, 1.1k words

a/n 𝝑𝑒 : this is possibly ooc this is my first time writing for him please go easy on me! ,,,, inspired by the song ‘when the lights are low’ by the paragons

“read to me, please?”

the air in the quite spacious room suddenly turned chilled as life around seemed to come to a halt. the eccentric buzzing of traffic seemingly stilled allowing cicadas and woodland birds to make their presence known.

fireflies tangoing into the darkened night jiving the streets alongside citizens peacefully making their way back to their residences.

it’s unlikely for a friday night to be uneventful for logan. a usual run through of the crazed day would be servicing important higher ups in his limousine, taking them to a glamorous black-tie event or a rowdy group of middle aged ladies celebrating a bride-to-be’s last night of freedom.

it was also unlikely for the said man to be in your bedroom after the hours of eight, conversing with you as the pads of his calloused fingertips ghosted over the satin silk that graced upon your body.

his tensed furrowed eyebrows relaxed for once, as he willingly leaves his on edge and guarded demeanour at your porch.

you don’t know how he was able to get the night off and frankly, you aren’t too eager to find out. rather using your energy to melt in his presence and eventually molding into one as his hazel half lidded eyes cautiously watches you straddle him then ease yourself on his semi hard cock.

his eyes immediately screwed shut followed by a throaty low groan once you bottom out, sitting completely still, your pelvises touching one another. your eyes softly flutter at the pleasurable ache as your hands found refuge around his neck and into the brushy hairs on his nape.

your question rings through his ears like a faint echo. with a quirked eyebrow, he lifts his head off the antique bed frame to face you, sharply examining your features.

“you can’t be serious?” he exasperatedly huffed out closing his eyes again and leaned back against the headboard.

you narrowed your eyes at him, “i’m dead serious. why else would you bring your glasses if you knew you had zero intentions of doing any reading?”

he doesn’t miss a beat, “i keep 'em on me at all times.” his voice is flat, not showcasing any emotion to give you more material.

you sigh, your lips pursed into a thin line while glancing at logan’s salt and pepper tufts of hair, allowing silence to fall amongst the two of you, not willing to continue the small squabble for a rather nonsensical request on your end.

that’s until you hear him scoff and mutter under his breath, “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

with a sharply slow roll of your hips you clamp down onto him, feeling his cockhead prods at your spongy spot. he loudly hisses through his teeth due to the sudden sensation, panting slightly as his fist balls up the sheets.

“you should be glad i haven’t hidden them yet, you old fuck,” you coyly beam.

logan’s brows knitted together as he shakily exhaled a deep breath to maintain —what’s left of— his composure, eyes stuck on your figure. great, you’re mocking him now, but he did have it coming he supposes.

his next movements are calculated, hesitant and uncertain as he reaches for your waist. yes, he has touched you before from head to toe, but there is always a sick gutted feeling of his that you’ll easily wither away in his arms leaving his dread to consume his soul once again.

his grip on your waist is loose, a mere nudge from a ghost, until you cuff your own hands over his to reassure his grip on you, his gaze softens.

“what do you want from me tonight?” his voice comes out as a honey dipped whisper, not what you were expecting as a rebuttal. it throws you off course, breath hitching before lightly nibbling on your bottom lip.

what exactly do you want from him tonight? when you received his sudden call five minutes before his arrival your nerves were over the moon. despite being in a relationship with logan for many months now, he always gave you an unorthodox reason to be nervous.

logan is intense. from how he carries himself to his appearance, his gaze all the way down to his speech patterns, the venom he spits out to his enemies or how he loves and cares for others so deeply; flesh, bones and all.

his love intimidates you —which is ironic in the sense that he could say the same exact thing about you— so truthfully, you don’t know what you want from him. only to be close enough to touch him, smell him, and to strip away his clothes to feel his skin onto yours.

but you choose not to say any of this, “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

he dryly chuckles. the type of chuckle that reverberates against your own body from close proximity. you always loved when he laughed.

“i suppose you’re right, i am your guest after all.”

his larger hands begin to caress your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumb, “why do you want me to read to you?” genuine curiosity is laced in his tone. he stares up at you patiently awaiting for your answer and you now feel like a deer caught in headlights.

his undivided attention makes you shift against him causing the both of you to softly groan then you shrug, because you truly don’t know why yourself.

“i thought it would be a nice thing for us to do.” you nervously start to pick at the skin that surrounds your nails.

he simply hums in acknowledgment and soon captures your hands in his to stop you from fidgeting, “next time, bub, i just want to enjoy this at the moment.”

you break out into an earnest smile, your hands soon snaking its way out of his grasp to place them back on the base of his neck, his hands soon moves to your waist with much more confidence this time around.

“sooo, does this mean you’ll take another day off to visit me again?” your big doe eyes lit up at the possibility of spending another quiet friday night with logan by your side.

he feigns irritation, “who said i took the day off? i just didn’t have anything better to do.”

you playfully shove his shoulder before passionately locking lips with him. he’s tentative to your reactions as he bores his entire life force into you, a match has been light in the pit of his stomach as you both explored each other’s mouths.

he grunts. wanting more, craving more until you pull away, a small string of saliva follows before separating.

“well, next time when you have nothing better to do you’ll just have to read me pride and prejudice.”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[iceunhie]

art of the fan!

premise: wherein jiaoqiu’s fan does half the work and reaps twice the effect.

warnings: gn!reader, 1.4k words, potential jiaoqiu ooc, written before his release. use of petnames and suffixes. please read the terminology guide below to understand their use in the plot, very ‘walk him like a dog’ core, though in this case fox would be more appropriate, haha.

a/n: guess who’s back with a oneshot (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) here is my humble offering to the jiaoqiu nation, i did my best

jiaoqiu—for some reason—has made it his life’s mission to perpetually get under your skin.

recently, he has employed shady methods, most particularly instilling almost unfair use of his fan in order to get away with things he normally can't, poking at the strings in your heart like how a stick hits a hornet’s nest.

“yi sheng, is there a purpose for this?” you exclaim, with the foxian man sighing in faux disappointment. the sarcastic way of addressing his title does make his face spasm—but unfortunately for you, today, it seems it does little to dampen his mischief.

you are in the humiliating position of being in the sly man’s lap; aggrieved that your current predicament warrants unfair treatment that borders on harassment (an exaggeration, jiaoqiu has never been improper to that extent).

not to mention, his fan is aimed at your chin, making you look up at him while he applies ointment to a rather nasty bruise around your lip, with the gall to hum as he does so.

“ah, ah. don't move.” he holds the feathered fan under your chin, eyes ever closed while a placid smile graces his face, retaining his signature cunning. jiaoqiu has lost his mind. you keep to yourself, ignoring the heat in your cheeks that had made an appearance since earlier—because why else would he do this? (and why in the name of aeons would you let him? something must be wrong with your brain today.) “if you do not let me do this, that unsightly bruise might fester, you know.”

“you’re too close.”

“well, you were too far.”

“i am sitting on your lap, yi sheng. how close do you want us to be?” you roll your eyes, earning jiaoqiu a poke at your face, followed by his hand squishing at the fat on your cheeks. “hey, lwet goh of me…”

“still with the formalities... surely now you can address me by my name, can you?” jiaoqiu coaxes, like saying it might wash away all the fatigue in the world, because every inch of his being, from the tips of his ears to the veins in his heart and the wisps of his soul, his yearning and pining echoes and resounds in the cavity of his chest that holds only you, you, you.

what, jiaoqiu wonders, would it take for him to be the sole beholder of your brilliance? his hands holding yours, gripping faithfully and unfalteringly, your fates bound by knots; crimson in nature, entwined forevermore? his eyes soften because of course they do—for you mold him into a being devoted to commemorating your existence into his flesh, your voice settling in the marrow of his bones.

you falter, your heartbeat loud. jiaoqiu notices. of course he does. “yi sheng—”

“jiaoqiu.”

“yi—”

“qiu-er.”

“....” he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—thump, thump—and it has never occurred to him to praise his foxian senses until now. his smile widens, a fang poking out with the white of his teeth. “i'm waiting, baobei.” your face glows with warmth, and jiaoqiu fights the urge to swallow you up whole right then and there.

(he resists it often when it comes to you.)

“you’re so stubborn!” you say after much deliberation, rejection flat and heavy. jiaoqiu deflates, just a bit, and petulantly rubs ointment on the other bruises littering your face. (his ears show his displeasure, drooping down, comically flat against his head.)

“hmph. and you’re too stingy.”

“all the more reason not to, then!”

still not enough, huh? jiaoqiu wonders if he'll ever get you to crack; if you'll ever mirror the expression of his adoration—swishing tail and perked up ears aside. still, his touch is gentle, like the embers of a fire hugging you for warmth, a blazing sensation in which all the greed in the world falls short compared to his need to touch you, to perceive you. “will i ever hear my name on your lips? you seem to have no issue addressing others so casually.”

“and who exactly are these others?” you raise a brow at him. jiaoqiu shrugs, nonchalant. as though it didn't bother him (he's seething).

you note that he speaks with contempt, bitterness filtering his soft-spoken words. his tail wags rapidly. pfft, so… so childish! (and a little cute, but you don't say it for obvious reasons.)

“well, for starters, the madam general, the dozing general, yunli, the herbalists near the red fox theater, the stair sweepers....”

“wait, wait, that's too many! and the stair sweepers, really?!”

“i’ll avoid answering further questions.”

“you look like you've swallowed vinegar, laoshi.” you croon, biting where you can at the weakened fox you've made, defiantly lowering your chin still held captive by jiaoqiu’s fan. “besides, i merely do it to cut all at one stroke. after all, it is you, yi sheng—” you relish in jiaoqiu’s expression when you get eerily close, noses almost touching, “that insisted i ought to call you by that title, did you not? who knew you were so easy to displease.”

his face constricts, and his hands lower, one hand gripping firm at your waist, and jiaoqiu reels away from you, hiding his face behind his fan as his cheeks tint themselves scarlet. his pride would not allow him to refute, and you knew that very well. “that...”

because you know him. know his ticks, his tells—jiaoqiu does not know if that is love. but his willingness to drop his guard, to let you slip by his foxy exterior—to allow you to burrow and fuse yourself into the tapestry of his being, that of which the fibers of his soul accept and wholeheartedly make room for you; constricting his breath, perceiving you. (he doesn't know if you're in love with him yet, but he is. maybe he always will be.)

your lips quirk up instead, the apples of your cheeks forming while smile lines grace your features, that of which he cannot look away from, cannot close his eyes from; for what use is closing one’s eyes when his sight was granted to him to behold you?

jiaoqiu’s saving grace is that you were kinder for your own good. if he could keep that kindness to himself, then….

“as expected, it's so weird when you're silent,” you laugh, and jiaoqiu’s stare rushes to behold you, the echo of your joy forming his heart anew. “jiaoqiu. there, you petulant fox. happy now?”

and the way he looks at you—his pupils expanding, eyes wide, jiaoqiu loves. the entire universe could crumble and turn to ashes this instant, and he would not look away.

“...i’m not.” you look at him with playful scorn. really, after all this trouble, your eyes seem to say. he chuckles dryly, forcing himself to laugh, because jiaoqiu wants to keep this euphoria and let it sink into his ears, his lungs and his brain. he wants to bottle the sound of your voice forming his name and setting his body ablaze like golden starlight in a place no one can hear but him.

“not what?” facing you, holding you, he can't even begin to breathe. jiaoqiu thinks this might be love, sprouting from his eyes and filling the corners of his veins, circulating fully, wholly, and utterly.

“i’m not happy at all.” he speaks your name like the growing embers of a wildfire, burning his throat and letting jiaoqiu dare to perceive you. “it’s lacking. it will always be lacking.”

and because you were you, you know exactly where to fan the flames. “ever the cunning one, aren't you, qiu-er?”

jiaoqiu thinks it's time you had enough of your fun. again, he's never had reason to praise his senses—but when he hears the deafening beats that increase as he looks at you even more—he thinks that maybe being a foxian is a decision fate was wise in undertaking.

he dips his head low, and before you can question why his fan covered your faces, a soft sensation floods your senses, warming you to the core when you feel the plush of his lips on yours. you feel his smile against your mouth, and the teasing bite down your lower lip makes your eyes turn to saucers.

this sly fox…!

pulling away, jiaoqiu hides his face behind his fan again, almost gloating when he takes in your aghast expression. “well, it's not so lacking anymore, i suppose.”

you glare. “that ointment of yours is useless now that you've kissed it away, you know.”

jiaoqiu brings the hand by your side to his lips, kissing your knuckles, devoting himself to every atom that comprises you, every cell that unravels and ties itself to create you; and he’ll adore you, chasing and basking in the warm daylight you bestow him.

“i can always kiss it better, anyway.” he ruffles your hair, the smile in his eyes mischievous and utterly unfair, because it's sincere, and blinding ....and jiaoqiu is already uncaring of the rapid wag of his tail. “didn’t you say it yourself? i am cunning, after all.”

BONUS: how to tame a foxian in one go!

“baobei, you certainly know how to leave someone breathless.”

“don’t follow me.”

“you’re not denying it though.”

“qiu’er, you’ll be demoted back to yi sheng.”

“huh?! thats cruel! wait, i said i’m sorry—!”

— terminology guide.

· [ 事半功倍 / half the work, twice the effect ] — (an idiom) the right approach leads to the desired/better results; jiaoqiu wanted reader to call him by his name affectionately, and the right ‘approach’ refers to making use of both the fan and the opportunity to kiss reader (which he got and more with minimal effort)

· [ 一刀切 / to cut all at one stroke ] — (idiom) one solution or ‘one size fits all’, reference to how reader doesn't want to refer to jiaoqiu as his name nor do they want to be mistaken to be in a relationship with him (playfully), so they refer to him as yi sheng ( 医生 ) so people don't get confused and see how jiaoqiu absolutely hates it (menace)

other: bao bei ‹ 宝贝 | baby/babe › , -er ‹ friendly and affectionate suffix often used in a teasing way › , yi sheng ‹ 医生 | doctor › laoshi ‹ 老师/老師 | teacher, used often in a certain part of china. used formally for instructors and teachers* ›

*as for why reader refers to jiaoqiu as laoshi aka teacher, jiaoqiu is a counselor (based on given canon information) and they use it to rile him up (since they use it sarcastically—because jiaoqiu was basically ordering them/instructing them to stay still while treating them ^^; hope this makes sense !

tidbit note: when reader says ‘consumed vinegar’ it is a funny way to show that he's jealous, because vinegar is sour (just like jiaoqiu's mood!)

note: hello! i apologize for being so late and so inconsistent with my posts, life has been busy lately with my job. as recompense, have a oneshot… lol. also, this fic wouldn't have happened without the lovely consultation of my friend and mootie @lowkeyren who helped me with making sure i was using the appropriate terms of affectionate address for reader and jiaoqiu, haha. can you tell i loved playing around with his character? even though he isn't out yet TT personally, i think i quite like the dynamic between reader and jiaoqiu; although this may be ooc in some point in time. he just gives off the vibe of a teasing smug bastard… who is a pathetic mess for his lover. or is it just me?? well, who knows…

@ ICEUNHIE: do not plagiarize, repost or steal my work.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, oral (f receiving), mentions of blowjob, etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

wc: 1709

a/n: the comeback of loser!jk<3

masterlist

"we should- mhph!," he gasped when you interrupted him with yet another kiss, attempting to speak again when your lips barely disconnected, "we should stu-" unfortunately for him, your lips did not stray too far.

you had no interest in holding any type of conversation right now. not when the pretty nerd was alone in your room for the third time this week.

surprisingly, despite your lack of ability to pay attention while jungkook was over at your place, your grades had still gone up. on the down side, this small improvement proved to be enough for your horny brain to make the executive decision that it'd be a waste to spend any more time studying when you could be playing with your pretty boy toy instead.

jungkook never had any complaints. even on the days you did study, you'd bid him goodbye by sitting on his cock and kissing up and down the length of his neck. he always left quite satisfied, though also dizzy with desire.

the sudden addiction you had with the boy couldn't have been helped. it was impossible for you to understand how he didnt have all the girls on campus trailing after him. he was clearly handsome, just incredibly shy. his shyness was so severe, he had trouble holding eye contact with anyone who spoke to him, only ever responding in incomprehensible stammers of nonsensical sentences.

you were more than fine to work with this. you knew it'd only take a while for him to warm up to you, and you were happy to patiently wait. the two of you sometimes conversed, getting to know each other past the math and the sex. he had already warmed up to you quite a bit, able to push his shyness aside for you. you'd break all that down any time you removed your shirt and propositioned yourself to him, but that was just to be expected.

as of now, your midterms were over and you felt no need to study for regular assignments despite jungkook's insistence. this meant you had all the time in the world to rearrange your tutoring sessions to fuck him instead. even as he attempted to form a single sentence, your tongue would find its way to his mouth, interrupting any thought that might break you away from his touch.

"i ... we're supposed to study at least a bit," he reminded you with a breathless tone as your lips went to his neck.

"don't wanna, baby. wanna fuck you instead. don't you want that too?", you whispered when you made your way to his ear, nibbling at it suggestively.

nodding feverishly, his eyes began fluttering shut, hands lamely digging into your hips like they usually did, "if- if you're sure."

you chuckled at his statement. you never had any second thoughts about fucking jungkook. he was a pretty nerd and former virgin whom you had the power to mold into the perfect boy for you. how could you ever pass out such an opportunity?

"i'm sure, pretty," you reassured as your hands went to pull up his shirt, yours joining soon after.

now sitting on his lap, top halves nude, you got up before his eyes could zero in on your breasts, throwing off your pants and helping him out of his own. unlike other times, you did not sit back down on his lap, instead opting to sit on the bed next to him, letting yourself fall back as your legs hung off the side of the bed.

looking up at him, you gestured at him to get off the bed with a quick flick of your eyes. the way he quickly understood and went to kneel between your legs made you chuckle. he was such a smart boy.

to this day, the pretty boy had never eaten you out. the extent of your sexual relationship only went as far as penetrative sex thus far. no oral had been involved for some reason – likely due to your need to jump him every time you saw him.

what you wanted most today was to claim your high on his tongue. you needed the pretty boy between your legs, struggling to lick into your cunt and fumbling to find your clit. you knew that with some guidance you'd easily get his skills at oral perfectly tailored to your tastes. that was the nicest part of having a pretty and untouched boy such as jungkook – you could teach him everything just the way you liked it.

staring up at you with his gigantic doe eyes, his brows furrowed in worry, likely unsure of what to do next whilst simultaneously intimidated by such a suggestive position. your fingers went to his chin, lifting up his face whilst yours lowered to almost meet in a kiss. a pretty whine was felt against your lips when you moved away just before your lips could connect.

"pretty?"

"yes?", a gulp accompanied his inquiry.

"will you be good and lick me?"

a groan left his lips before he began nodding dumbly, practically whining as he confirmed his enthusiasm.

"please ...", he whimpered when you created a larger gap between you, grabbing onto his hair and pushing his face into your bare cunt.

opening your legs wider, you led the pretty boy almost all the way to your pussy, stopping right before letting his lips touch your own.

"tongue out, baby," you instructed.

wordlessly, he followed your instructions as his hands went up to your thighs for support. he gave you a decided nod before leaning in and shyly licking into your cunt. groaning against you, he licked experimentally once, twice, thrice – enough times for his resolve to break and for his shyness to be replaced by want.

your hands continued to guide him by his hair, grinding into his mouth in sync with the movement of his lips. it was easy to fall into a trance while the desperate boy ate at you. it was as if he'd had prior practice, except you knew that wasn't the case. jungkook was clearly just letting his hunger take over, leading to an ethereal feeling you knew only jungkook could give you.

"kookie ... oh, fuck," you cried out, fingers digging harshly into his hair.

he reacted accordingly, groaning at both your voice and the feeling of his hair getting pulled at. his hips were also uncontrollable as they ground into the side of the bed, pathetically humping in hopes of some stimulation.

as he ate at you with an unprecedented desperation, he let out the prettiest whimpers and pleas against your cunt, leaving you lightheaded at how needy he was for you.

"it's so good ... fuck, so good. thank you- thank you, oh, fuck ...."

"tastes so fucking good, oh god ...."

"it's for me? fuck, tell me it's mine. t-tell me it's all for me, please ..."

"oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you ..."

encouraging him, you claimed him as yours, telling him how good he was and how you'd give him anything he wanted. he cried even more at this, continuing to thank you for granting him access to your cunt. you knew he meant this in both a sexual and emotional way, which only made you feel even dizzier.

a few minutes into jungkook sloppily making out with your cunt, you pulled him away a bit (despite his resistance), making him look up at you.

under you, you found foggy glasses, messy hair, and half his face covered in your wetness. and even with all that, he looked like the prettiest thing you'd ever had between your legs. he whined the moment you separated him, attempting to reconnect his lips with your cunt, but you remained stubborn.

"baby, you're doing so good for me," you wiped a bit at his lips, though he misinterpreted your intentions, instead taking your fingers into his mouth and suckling.

he was a natural at being a needy mess.

"need you to play with my clit, though, pretty. c'mere, like this. let me show you ..."

with your fingers, you showed him where he'd find your clit, instructing him to stick out his tongue for you again and kitten-lick at it. he went the extra mile and began suckling at it after just a few moments, making your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

going back and forth between licking at you and suckling at your clit, his intensity only increased the more you cried out for him, beginning to hump against his face with zero finesse. the squeaks of the bed could be heard as he himself bumped his cock against it, whimpering into your cunt out of neediness.

"g-gonna make me cum, kookie ... oh, fuck, i- i'm gonna cum, pretty. eat it f-for me? p-please?"

you hadn't planned on becoming so needy for him, but you also hadn't planned for him to be such a quick learner. he simply nodded into your cunt, speeding up his movements as he grumbled against your lips, clearly growing desperate to make you reach your high.

this was easily one of the most intense, neediest orgasms you'd ever had. your voice reached a pitch it never had before as you shamelessly used jungkook's face to get off. at some point his nose began nudging against your clit, almost causing you to black out in pleasure. by the end of it you had been singlehandedly doing all the work whilst jungkook let you guide his face however you wanted.

"fuck ... kookie," you breathed once your high subsided, "c'mere, baby."

climbing up the bed, he hovered over you, shy in initiating a kiss but putting his all into it the moment he realized how into it you were, suckling your juices out of his tongue and moaning into his mouth.

"was ... was it good?", he murmured into your neck once your lips had disconnected.

"it was so good, baby. you're such a quick learner," you caressed his back reassuringly, ignoring the hardness poking against you for a moment.

"want me to try it on you?" you asked, chuckling when he suddenly stilled.

"o-oh ... you want to?"

"lay on the bed, kookie. let me show how good it feels," you grinned at him, knowing you were about to blow his mind yet again.

[forsworned]

husband simon breeding his cute petite wife. Mf got no mercy, if u don’t add dirty talk and slapping, ima come to ya house bbg

Warning(s): Breeding kink, Rough sex, AFAB!Reader, Degradation

I firmly believe that Simon would be gentle breeding his wife unless said otherwise.

He's syrupy sweet as he's digging into the flesh of your thighs, lifting your hips as he drives into you. Cooing saccharine pet names as he studies the way your face contorts in pleasure. It's always about you and Simon doesn't want it any other way. Directing all his attention to the resonance of your moans and the gooseberries that trail along your skin. Your body continually motions to grind against his pelvis and Simon halts his fervent ministrations to peer down at you.

He's tracing his fingers along the peaks of your breasts, dilated onyx hues fixating on your hardening buds. "'ll take care of ya, dovie."

"Simon—hah!" Another roll of his hips and you're clawing at his biceps desperately seeking purchase into anything. "Need to—fuck!"

"Tell me." He licks his thumb, coating it with his saliva and he's hovering over your clit. You part your lips to speak, but it's lost on you as he slowly starts to rub you out and slowly thrusts into you. He throws his head back a little when you clench around him.

"I want to—Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Simon! Please~" You practically sing out. And he's fighting demons. He knew that look all too well. Because every babymaking session has literally been nothing but slow, intimate, finger-intertwined, mind-blowing sex, but now you want it hard, rough, and dirty?

And that ignites an inferno in him. You're suddenly being turned around, face first, ass sitting up as he grasps onto your thighs and pushes them toward his body. Your small yelp melts into a milky moan when you feel his tongue lapping at your folds. Wet, squelching noises fill your ears as you lose yourself in the hazy euphoria that encapsulates your body. You shudder at the way he flattens his tongue against your clit, and you feel yourself clenching and spasming as you near your end, but he swiftly withdraws himself to fill you with his cock.

"Simon!" Your impassioned cry, causes him to buck his hips a bit as he runs his fingers through your hair and tugs it back so that you're half-facing him, and he hotly slots his lips between yours. His tongue sloppily swirls around your own and saliva drips from your mouths, muffling your conflated moans.

A sharp spank to your plump ass cracks through the air, as he roughly molds your cervix to his dick. "Ya like that don't ya, ya little slut?"

"Oh—fu—" Your half profanity is unfound on him as he feels your walls gripping onto him. The grin that stretches across his lips is raunch as hell as he makes you wail out in the most lewd way possible.

Another hot, welting spank to your ass jerks your body forward, but you're not going anywhere in his grip. "Such a little slut for me, aren't ya, baby?"

You can only nod in response, but he grips your chin between his taut fingers and your jaw is slackened as you peer up at his with misty eyes.

"Say it." He commands. And your lips contort into a giddy, toothy smile as you suck on his finger. His lips part as he pumps his finger into your mouth and the feeling of your tongue, causes him to suck in his bottom lip.

You let go with an audible pop. "I'm your little slut."

And with that, another smack to your ass sends you reeling as he hammers into you and suddenly you feel your clit being encircled. The excitement and the pleasure are too much for you as you become dizzy with that gratifying buzz that pushes you to the brink of your seventh heaven.

"'m gonna, Si—!" You whimper out as you feel a rich fire that is blossoming in your belly reach into every nerve of your body so pleasantly, leaving you warm and fuzzy. Your eyes are drifting to the back of your head and you feel Simon twitch inside of you and the warmth of his cum, spilling into your womb, coating your walls like he had intended. It felt so satisfying.

You're both heaving for a moment and his lips touch your shoulder and trail down your spine. A frisson runs up your spinal column and you're smiling like an idiot, with your cheek against the white linen pillow that was stained with tears and drool.

Simon slowly pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of his dick repleting in your guts, but he sighs in contentment when he admires the messy, opulent tumult you two had caused.

"Surely, that'll result in a child." He murmurs and then peers back up at you before you both end up in a fit of giggles and butterflies kisses.

But please feel free to run up on me, I'm prepared miss ma'am

Send me some reqs!!!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary: joel drags you onto his lap and consumes you.

warnings: 18+ mdni. joel miller x afab!reader. no physical descriptions of reader. slight dom!joel. cock riding. calling a pussy she/her. no beta. w.c: 835

author’s note: I saw a different gif of Joel sitting on the ground with his thick body and long legs, had a minor black out and this was the result. hope you enjoy!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joel Miller leaning back against the headboard of your bed with his legs spread, completely nude, is a fucking sight.

Somehow, he's still so massive and intimidating in this prone position. He reminds you of a warrior or Viking God who's just come home from slaying in battle. 

Coarse hair covers his broad chest, blanketing his sturdy abdomen, and trails south below his belly button, creating a dark, densely woven path down to his pelvis. His large cock hangs heavy between his burly, spread thighs; his sac is so full and warm that it reaches the sheets. The dusty pink head weeps, dripping pre cum down the girthy shaft as it bobs and flexes at the sight of you on your knees naked before him. 

"C'mere." he husks, fisting his length with a meaty paw while you timidly crawl on hands and knees over to him.   

Your gaze travels up his belly and chest, meeting an untamed, vivid stare as his chocolate eyes bore into you. He makes you feel so small and insignificant, but you know that's a lie when he cups a worn hand along your cheek. He treats you like a goddess; like you formed the moon and stars. He revolves around you. 

"My sweet, sweet girl." he tugs you into his lap, your sensitive cunt brushing against his belly, leaving a trail of shiny arousal in its wake. "Already so wet. Bet I'll slide right in." He purrs.

His words burn wildly through you. All consuming and raging, igniting a searing heat deep in your belly. He taps his crown against your folds, a sharp, sticky 'thwap' bouncing off the walls before he lines his cock up with your tight, fluttering hole tempting a soft whimper to bubble up your throat.

"S'ok, I got you." he consoles you with a deep, soothing voice that slithers into your wary heart.

Joel grips one sturdy hand on your hip and helps you sit on his cock while the other cradles your jaw, fixing his fingers around the back of your neck. "Easy now, slow," he commands with a soft rumble.  

He traces the outline of your ear with his thumb, distracting you from the pressure as your velvet channel molds around him. He sighs, a long, winding breath through his nose, "All the way. Take e'ery inch."

His bearded jaw clenches when he bottoms out and hears your pitiful whines. Your body would loll like a ragdoll if not for his grip as a blissful fervor runs rampant up your spine and his weeping tip presses against your cervix.

Your lips pull into a tiny 'o', brows pinching tight when Joel shifts, withdrawing his cock before slowly, ever so slowly, spearing it back in and splitting you open. He smirks at your glassy eyes, all wide and wild like an animal caught in a trap.

"Thatta girl." he rumbles, thrusting his hips and breaching your cunt again. He tenderly rubs his thumb along your cheek. His cock flexes at the sight of you gradually losing your mind. "so full of cock, ya can't think straight, huh?"

He drives his cock deeper, meaty thighs bracing the backs of your own on every brutal thrust. Slick trickles down his length as he relentlessly sheathes himself in your heat like a sword spearing into its victims.

Your fingers dig into his brawny shoulders, pressing into the dense cords of muscle as they shift with every devastating shove, demonstrating his strength.

"Shh, I'll take care, a'ya." the thumb that framed your ear is now threateningly hooked under your jaw. A blunt nail acutely bites into the underside of your chin. "Always do, don't I?"

When you meet his foreboding stare, a high-pitched cry rattles through your body straight down to your cunt, making your walls clench like a vice around his length.

A chuckle rumbles from the center of his chest. "S'what I thought."

The hand around your hips tightens as his pace quickens. The pads of his fingers dig sweetly into your skin. He slithers his other hand around the back of your neck securing you in a severe grip; the pads of his fingers dig sweetly into your skin, keeping you still and compliant as the rapturous arousal blazing in your core burns brighter and brighter.

You feel him swell, pushing against your insides and forming a new pathway that'll only and always be his.

"Tha's it. Stay with me." he tips your forehead against his own and penetrates your soul with a voracious stare. "Can feel 'er, squrimin'. This sweet pussy gonna come?" 

His torso and balls tighten as you writhe in his hold and hit your peak with an agonizing, blissful cry. "Shit- 'ere ya go." he praises, growling darkly through clenched teeth, watching in awe as you convulse from his unyielding and gluttonous touch. 

He wants you close. So close he can breathe in every needy, angelic breath he punches from of your lungs as he fucks you to the edge over and over again. He wants to watch you fall apart in his arms so he can put your back together. Breath by breath. Whimper by whimper. Orgasm by orgasm.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

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[garfunklefield]

reader works at a strip club and choso falls in love with her? hes a reguilar and she always igves him private dances? she gets excited to see him? what if another customer tries to get too handsy and choso kicks their ass then takes her into his car and they get freakkyyyyyyyyy??

Let me ride UR Disco Stick!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!stripper!reader/regular!Choso Kamo Warnings: attempted SA [nothing graphic], semi-violent, strip club AU, love at first sight, Choso is crazy down bad, semi-public masturbation, cumshot, car sex, somewhat exhibitionist, semi-public sex, breeding kink, lap dance, fluff, fondling, sitting cowgirl position, sexual tension, creampie, hands-free ejaculation/orgasm, Word count: 5223 DESC: Ever since Choso stepped into Cherry Girls, he was captivated by you.

REQUESTS are OPEN!

ASHRAF ALANQAR'S GOFUNDME. IF YOU HAVE OVER 1000 IN YOUR BANK ACCOUNT DONATE 1-5 DOLLARS.

NOTES: My friend is helping me with ideas so if this gets crazy blame her tbh. And ALL I've been listening to is City Pop, so take that in mind when reading

Choso wasn’t the type to step foot in strip clubs. He wasn’t even a very sexual guy, never one to masturbate unprompted or take time out of his day to watch porn. So he had no clue what made him pull over that Saturday night as he drove into the city, windows done and light music wafting into his ears. He wasn’t sure why Cherry Girls, of all places, caught his eye. The bright pink LED lights flashed in his peripherals, making his head turn just a bit. The sign was in the shape of a cherry, illuminating the city life. It was nice, in between a few dull buildings. It lit up the night and made him smile as he drove past. It was about 10 PM when he walked up, one hand in his black skinny jeans pocket and the other on his ID. He had seen a few movies to know how it would go. 

He had just left a gathering with friends from college, nothing unusual. So the man's outfit was more casual than he’d typically dress. Black pants and a tighter black top, without any sleeves. It had some logo on it that he was unfamiliar with, but he wasn’t disappointed in how it framed his chest. To say he was scrawny would be a disservice to his body, molded perfectly to accentuate his muscles. He was built, but not intensely so. 

Kamo’s hair was also different that night, instead of up in his usual style he had opted to wear it down around his face. Usually, it would be up in smaller puffs. Something cute that set his look apart from the rest of his peers. Approachable even. Without that, or even a touch of purple eyeshadow, he looked like a douchebag. Maybe it was the resting bitch face or that constant awkward smile that made him look unapproachable. But with the makeup and hair? More of a cutie-patootie!

After the man was let in, he was bombarded with pink lights and waves of perfume. It was an elixir, how it drew him in. LED lights shined on a stage in the center of the building, that’s what his eyes focused on. Anyone else would take a moment to scan their surroundings to take it all in, but he was stuck. He couldn’t stop staring at that stage and the perfectly thick legs that graced it. It was you. Your body was barely contained in thin straps and buckles. Curves spilled over each piece of fabric in an addictingly attractive way. You were addicting. His eyes trailed to your face as his body moved him to sit at the first seat available, drinking you in. You had a round face, completed with perfect features. They fit you in ways he didn’t know were possible. Facial harmony? Whatever it was, you had it. Your hair framed your face in a style he wasn’t sure the name of, with a few bows to make it come together. Gorgeous. You were utterly gorgeous. 

How was it that an angel was walking among humans and he was just informed? And it was strange, from the first time he had seen you, he felt a rush of arousal. No woman had made him aroused by their face or their movements. As you glided up the pole, he was throbbing. Your head leaned back as your face did all the talking, your lips painted in red. They fit your face and contorted in a way that made you appear to have said something, without anything being uttered from your mouth. 

Choso wasn’t the type to set foot in strip clubs, and he wasn’t the type to masturbate in public. But he was seriously considering it at that moment. His erection poked through his jeans and strained the cloth. He exhaled a shaky breath and pressed his palm into the center, trying to wain it in some way. Yet, that was a mistake. It was sensitive and god that touch felt good. What would your touch feel like? What would your dainty hands do if they got the chance to touch his erection? How would they wrap around his cock and how would they satisfy him? And your mouth; How would your lips suck his tip and how would your tongue lick his slit? Just these thoughts alone were sending pleasurable shivers up his length. 

Bouts of pre-cum were staining his boxers and god he was so close he could feel it. If you could just touch him; If you could just breathe into his ear. Something, just anything from you would be enough. His breath hitched and his eyes closed, head leaning back into his seat. Kamo was inching toward a climax he wasn’t even sure would be possible just imagining you. How would your pussy feel between his fingers, wet and sloppy on his dick? How tight would you be and how bad would he have to stretch you out before he could take all his length? Your hips would be perfect anchors for his hands as he would plow up into you, from behind, or even from on top. Love handles would be good too, he’d take anything. Just to graze your ass with his boner and grind until he found relief. 

And then it was too much, Choso felt himself spill over the edge in a hot burst of emotion. He gasped and opened his eyes to see your face grinning at the audience as you turned. Cum poured in spurts from his tip, warm and sticky into his underwear and coating himself in white. It was so hot, he gripped the seat beneath him and tried to hide his noises. But it was so hard to even sit still. A low growl, almost a whine, escaped his lips as he bit down, grinding his teeth. With his back arched, the male began to pant and pray no one had heard him. 

As he came down from his high, he had to come to terms with exactly what happened. You had just made him cum without any touch at all, without even knowing it. It was one of the best orgasms he had ever had, from his mind alone. He needed more. 

~

Getting a private dance was easy, the details being a bit fuzzy in Kamo’s mind. All he could focus on was sitting in a lounge chair in a small, yet desolate room. It had soft red walls with low lighting that made everything seem darker than it actually was. Maybe it was to further the arousal building again in his lower abdomen. Again? He wasn’t sure how, but he was finding himself becoming hard again just at the thought of you. Was this what it was like to be down bad? Down astronomical?

His thoughts got interrupted when you entered the room, lacy black set making his body turn on fire. A lump in the man's throat formed when you spoke in your angelic voice, “Choso, right?” You introduced yourself, turning a bit shy when you saw his very large erection forming in his skinny jeans, “Excited huh?”

He couldn’t speak, well it felt like it. With a loud swallow, the male attempted to form some coherent words, “Y..yeah. I guess you could say that.” Embarrassment filled his face in the form of a pink stain, blushing his cheeks and dabbling his nose. Was this what it felt like to pay for a woman to give him attention? For thirty minutes you were all his, and all he could do was stare as you moved your body. 

“It’s okay. I know it’s your first time too,” you cooed, closing the door with your hip as you continued softly, “I’ll be gentle…” That tone, it was better than he could have imagined. If you didn’t stop soon he knew he’d be in deep shit. Choso’s hands tightened on the armrest as you approached, putting a hand atop his. Something about your eyes was telling him to relax and he wanted to listen. He wanted to give in and let you have your way with him for as long as you wanted, until you were tired of him. Until he was completely and utterly yours.

He let go of the armrest and you smiled, “Good boy. I’ll take it slow too,” your voice was music to his ears, so the raven-haired male let himself close his eyes for a moment to compose himself. Your perfume, a mix of chocolate and cherries filled his nose. It was sweet and pleasurable. He didn’t realize you were getting closer until his eyes fluttered open. Kamo felt his breath hitch when your face was mere inches from his own, lips forming a pout. 

“H-Hey…” He breathed out, and you smiled. 

“Hi, handsome,” your breath was sweet too, like candy. Before he knew it, you seated yourself on his lap, hovering over his obvious boner. It was hard to avoid, but you managed to keep your distance. This was getting too much for him and it hadn’t even begun. Your smell, your presence, it was going to make him spill over the edge again and again if you let him.

“You can touch me, baby,” you smiled through white teeth, leaning back and pressing your hefty breasts together, hands lightly thrumming on your own skin, “Tell me your fantasy.” This was different than anything he had ever seen in a movie. Was he supposed to touch you? Was this how you always operated in the club or was he special? God, Choso hoped he was special just for you.

“I want,” Choso’s voice stuck to his throat thickly, as he attempted to form words, “You…” And there it was, an opportunity to touch you. He didn’t take it for granted, placing two hands gingerly on your love handles. They were as soft as he had imagined, ever more so. Then his palms trailed to your hips, squeezing just a bit to see some kind of reaction. You bit your red bottom lip and inhaled just a bit, something he noticed and something he couldn’t help but drink in. You were intoxicating. He was practically drunk already and close to staining his underwear in pure white bliss. 

“I want you,” the customer began again, focusing his eyes on your face with a sense of determination, “To ride me…” And he let out a small moan when you leaned into his touch, your clothed cunt grazing against his erection. That was enough and he groaned, trying his hardest to keep it in but he couldn’t, orgasming there on the spot in hot bouts of pleasure. He inhaled and whined lowly, throwing his head back and squeezing your hips to keep himself stable. Pleasure and orgasmic joy ran through his cock as his swollen urethra cried out hot cum into his jeans. 

Your face looked a bit shocked at his actions, clearly understanding what had happened. But you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, your hands made home on his chest and rubbed small circles with your palms, fingers stretched out, “You want me, huh?” Your voice was teasing, almost rubbing salt into the wound. But he didn’t hear it. He could feel the throbbing in his ears getting louder and the throbbing in his pants started up again. What was going on with him? Never in his life had he come that much, especially without some form of physical stimulation.

“I …” Choso’s mind blanked when his eyes refocused onto you, leaning toward your touch. This was so overstimulating to be with you here, it was … nice in a way. All his senses could do was focus on you and your touch. Your beautiful and amazing touch. He needed to savor this for as long as he possibly could until his time with you was up. 

~

The man wasn’t sure how long he stayed with you seated atop his lap, but it wasn’t enough. When he left, he couldn’t help but think about your touch. It was heavenly, so heavenly he couldn’t stop but get aroused again. This time it was more of a burn than anything he had felt before. It was a fiery sensation burning in his cock as he sat in his car. It was different than the last times because it was an innate hunger deep inside his lower abdomen. It was different because he had to touch himself or he might’ve just dropped dead then and there. 

Your face, he could see it contort in pleasure as he unzipped his pants. And your warmth, he could feel it when he snaked a hand around his length. This was nice, closing his eyes and feeling your walls clench around him, as his hand stroked himself slowly. Teasingly, tauntingly. He wanted to savor this newfound pleasure for as long as he physically could until he had to go home. 

Kamo could feel your face press against his shoulder as you rode him, whining for more. You’d be needy, no matter how much game you talked. He could tell you’d beg for him to fuck you and you’d cry as he pounded you. He’d like that, to fuck you nice and good, huh? He’d make you beg for it, and make you ride it with your hands forced behind your back until you sobbed. He’d make you his, mark you with his mouth until you were covered in hickies. All over your thick breasts until your nipples were sore from his tongue, practically bleeding from how much he’d abuse them with his teeth.

He could hear you whine, basically, he could hear you crying for him. He’d fuck you good. He’d be the perfect boyfriend, too. No matter what you wanted, the man would get it for you. And meals? He’d cook! You didn’t want to clean? He’d clean! Choso would be your house husband if he could just be yours. 

When he came, his cock was throbbing. He was milked beyond belief, leaking slowly into his palm as he gasped. Guttural groans filled the air he arched his back to the sensation. It was so good, and it would’ve been better if it was your hands. If it was your pussy, squelching as he made you, his. 

And he was going to make you, his.

~

Choso didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to come back every Saturday until he married you. Was it too forward to already think of vows or what colors would be prominent at your wedding? Probably! Was he doing it anyway? Absolutely!! 

The first time you saw him again, you did a double take. Now he knew he was going to be going to the club, so he had time to get ready. He spent an hour doing his hair in his signature puffs, then his eye makeup in purple and red, followed by some eyeliner. Just one line from his eyelid down to his cheek on either eye, followed by tight-lining his eyes. He felt a bit overdressed, but those insecurities faded when he saw you. You were in a light blue lingerie set, something that accentuated your skin tone. And, it didn’t cover much. His eyes wandered for a moment as he found himself a seat at the front, by the stage.

The man wasn’t expecting much from this, but he hoped to have a private room with you again. Something to see you and feel you. Maybe this time he’d be able to compose himself long enough to fondle your breasts, or even squeeze your ass. Just seeing you in your glory, walking around to talk to guests was making him feel a certain type of way again. 

It was quickly stopped by a man who approached you. He was taller and probably more intoxicated than anyone else in the building. The way he walked indicated he could barely even hold himself up, but he had one goal in mind. Getting to you. Maybe Choso was being jealous, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man. The way he strutted to you and grabbed your arm, shouting something slurred in your direction, it angered him. How dare this man? What nerve did he have to think he could ever talk to a woman like that? Spouting such bile to someone as beautiful and amazing as you? He continued to pull at your arm as you shook your head and pulled it back, grabbing a drink from a nearby tray and throwing it to his face. 

No one was coming quick enough. Why weren’t the bodyguards handling this? Why wasn’t someone doing anything? 

Kamo stood and dusted his pants off. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in an outfit he liked so much, but for you, he’d do anything. He was hooked on you, your voice, your scent, your hair, your everything … all after one day. So you shouldn’t have been surprised when he walked up to the much taller man and socked him in the jaw. There was a very high chance that could have gone south, or completely missed. But somehow, his balled-up fist plowed the guy in the head, enough to make him stumble. Of course, it wouldn’t have knocked him over. But he was aiming to disorient enough to get you to the back or somewhere safe. 

“Choso?” You spoke, grabbing onto his arm, “You… really didn’t have to do that.” Before he could respond, the drunken man attempted to tackle Choso down. Thankfully for him, you grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the way. He stumbled forward and looked at you, smiling thankfully before turning his attention to the drunken man who was not giving up any time soon. Maybe punching him was a bad idea. 

“Um,” he pressed his lips together, before forming a very awkward smile, “Will you marry me?” The drunk was busy grabbing a chair to throw, giving the two of you a few seconds before disaster. And of course, with the adrenaline, he wasn’t thinking. 

“What?!” You whipped your head to him. 

“Come to my car?” He said instead, offering his hand to you. The most he could do was offer you a ride home and hope security would take care of the issue. And a part of him really hoped you’d say yes for selfish reasons. He wanted you to trust him and let him in, and maybe then your relationship would blossom. Maybe then, you’d kiss him. It was farfetched as hell to imagine he’d get anything more than a handshake out of this, but he wanted to hope.

You took his hand and let him swiftly lead you to his old beat-up Kiya, parked quite a ways away, “Um. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Kamo shook his head to dismiss that thought from your mouth, “I wanted to. No one else was going to protect you.” With a smile he clicked his keys, seeing his car light up a few spots ahead, “We can just wait in here until they kick him out, uhm, you know.” Your face lit up in a way he hadn’t seen before. Something sweet about it. It was a mix of relief and happiness. Your lips pursed together into a pout and your face began to redden. To Choso, it was adorable. He wanted to take you and hold you in his arms, vowing to protect you from the world and anyone who dared hurt you. Maybe that was extreme. But he would give his right arm just to hold you for a minute, pressing you close against his chest and closing his eyes, as he smelt your hair. 

“Thank you, Choso. You didn’t have to,” was all you spoke, quiet and soft. It was a change from how seductive and snarky you could be, and he liked it more. It was a more genuine side to you, and the man wanted to see more of it. 

He led you to his car, turned it on, and opened the back door for you to sit. He just assumed you’d prefer the room in the back rather than the small seats up front. Sitting beside you, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you looked out the car window. It was nice for a moment, to smell your perfume and to see you look comfortable. The way your body molded to the seat as you just sat there, your stomach bunching together in rolls, and how you leaned against one arm. You were cute. You were amazing. 

“Um,” Choso broke the silence after a moment, watching your head turn to him. Your eyes scanned his face and you smiled, awaiting his next words, “Are you cold? I could give you a spare jacket…?” His voice trailed off when you pressed your glossy lips together. 

“I could come closer to you?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and letting a few loose strands from your hairstyle fall across your forehead. Without being able to think if it was appropriate, Kamo reached forward and gently pushed some of the hairs away from your face, just so he could see all of your beauty in the moonlight. He hadn’t fully registered what you said until a few moments later when a red blush trailed up his temples. You wanted to sit next to him? You wanted him? It was hard for the male to imagine that the way he felt about you could ever be reciprocated.  He didn’t speak but instead nodded. A smile, wider than before, pulled at your full lips as you scooted closer. Your big thighs stuck to the leather seats as you crawled toward him, sitting down right beside him. Your plush hand fell atop his and your eyes met. 

Was this intimacy? Was intimacy more than simply fucking each other, but instead feeling a deep, soulful connection? Choso, in all honesty, had never felt a connection to someone so soon and so intensely, without knowing them. You were different. In the way you carried yourself and how he was beginning to see your mind too. It was different. Of course, your beauty captivated him. But you had something special to you hidden beneath the jewels of your flesh. Your warmth was comforting to him as you leaned your side against his. Hands on hands and skin on skin. That was what the raven-haired male liked. He needed you. He needed to make sure you were okay, and if you were, that was all that mattered.

Slowly, as the evening progressed he found you inching your way closer to his body until you were practically on top of him. Your arm weasled its way around him and pulled the man closer, letting you be one. His arm found its way around your shoulders. Without saying anything he pulled you in and let you rest. You were in control of the situation. Anything you wanted to do him he would comply and follow to any extent you wanted him to. If all you wanted was his warmth and his arm, he’d give you both without hesitation. 

And slowly, you sat up and stared into his eyes. There was another look there than what he had seen the last week. Rather than a calculated lustful look, designed to make any man's knees weak, it was genuine. It was longing in a way he hadn’t seen in anyone in so long. You stared at him like he was a treasure you wanted to take apart and search with delicate hands, terrified of destroying. You looked at him with wide eyes, full of desire. But it was a desire to get closer, closer in every sense of the word. You wanted to be in him, on him, with him, near him; Intellectually and physically, mentally and emotionally. Were you as crazy down bad as him??? Honestly … yeah. 

Choso uttered your name, low in the base of his throat, before he leaned in. It was slow and methodical and god, he wanted to cave and force your mouth onto his. But he wanted to savor this moment as much as he could, even if it meant putting himself in agony. Your lips met slowly, molding together in harmony for one slow second before you opened your mouth. Inviting him in, you kissed delicately and placed your arms on his sides. He wasn’t sure what to do, but followed your lead, kissing as you did. Your heads turned in opposite directions, opening up for more room to explore with your tongues. The intensity grew, as did the burning desire in his pants to feel your pussy. To feel you, live you, breathe you, he was going insane. Just touching your hair, trying his hardest not to mess it up, was sending hot arousal down his cock into his swollen head. 

Deeply and passionately he kissed you as if the world would collapse unless your lips were on his. Deeply he swallowed you whole, just by pressing his mouth onto yours. If you weren’t the one kissing him he would have never wanted to kiss again. His hands found home on your hips and slowly pulled you onto his lap with practical ease. His arms wrapped around your waist and he seated you on his erection. It was so hot to feel your warm, wet, and clothed pussy against his groin, desperately beginning to grind for release. But Choso didn’t want you two to just bump and grind. He needed to be inside you or he was actually going to drop dead. 

“Please…” Kamo whined, breaking from the kiss to stare into your eyes with his grey orbs, eyelids hanging low and lashes brushing against his cheeks, “Let me fuck you… I want to.. Mmm.. I want to touch you so bad..” His large hands squeezed your hips again, harder, with more drive. If he wasn’t going to be inside you why would he even live?? 

You nodded your head quickly and went to work. It was easy to free his cock from his jeans, then his boxers. All you had to do was unzip and pop it out. He was a bit shy to show himself to you, but your wide eyes and slacked jaw proved to him you seemed to like it. The man wouldn’t have considered himself huge but on the bigger end of the spectrum. 

He ran his fingers down your front, thumbing your laced pantie set as they trailed further to your core. Just a few more inches and he’d be touching your pussy. If only he could live in it. His index and middle gently pried away the fabric so he could lay eyes on your perfect cunt. Even if it had discoloration, moles, or hair, or it wasn’t what he had seen on porn … he didn’t care. It was yours. Choso had been dreaming of this day for so long [1 SINGULAR WEEK]. He dipped into your wetness, rubbing one small circle just to see your sensitive reaction. Your breath hitched in a way he hadn’t seen before, your muscles clenched in your jaw and your hands rested on his shoulders. Beautiful. You were utterly beautiful. 

He pulled your undergarments to the side and lifted you up a bit, attempting to position you in the somewhat dark parked car. You helped a bit, grabbing a hold of his length and stroking up a bit in a teasing motion. Choso stuttered in his movements and slowly lowered you down. He was going to cum from pure impact alone. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long, but your pussy was making it damn near impossible. Tight walls enveloped his cock, covering it like a warm and soft hug as they stretched to accommodate his girth. Wetness spread down his member and for a moment he swore he could’ve felt you pulsate above him. 

“Choso,” you spoke impatiently, grabbing a hold of his face and pulling him in, “Please just … kiss me or something.” That was all you needed to say for him to take it from there. His lips met yours quickly, taking peck after peck until his head turned to the side and took in your bottom one. He wanted to do so much in such little time, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. Big hands took your love handles and rocked you back and forth a bit, just making sure you were adjusted to his penis before he began to thrust you up and down. Kamo wanted you to bounce and cry on his cock until you were nothing more than a blabbering mess. He wanted you to choke on his cum after he face-fucked you, making you swallow every drop. He wanted to do so much in such little time. 

He lifted you up just a bit to get a good angle, as he fucked into you. Tight and squishy, and warm and like melted honey on his length. You were so hot, your noises, your face, your fucking pussy. God, it was harder for him to concentrate on kissing you as he was fucking you. Your kisses were needy and incessant as was his urge to breed you- my god. He couldn’t help but barely hang on as white-hot bliss was building deep in his lower abdomen. The male's hips thrust forward, hitting your swollen spot. He could tell he was fucking you oh so good because your lips were trying to catch up with his. Your grip on his shirt got tighter and for a second he swore you were clenching around him tighter than you had before. 

“H-Harder.. Mm..- hhah.. Cho-Cho..Choso..” You whimpered, pulling back from the kiss to rest your head on his shoulder. He wasn’t holding back anymore, groaning out as he was beginning to ride out his slow high. The man inhaled and gasped, grunting forward as you moaned. Your moans were perfect. They were music to his ears, making him spill almost instantly. Within seconds of pumping into you, he was fucking his seed right back inside your pretty cunt. He could imagine it, giving you a baby. Making you a pretty mommy as many times as you wanted. He’d never get tired of cuming into your hot pussy and painting your walls milky white. 

Choso continued until he heard you cry out and arch your back, biting your lips and trying not to scream. He knew you were cumming then. He was past the point of sensitivity to feel anything, so he continued to fuck you good. All he wanted was to please you and make you cum. Your walls clenched around him as he touched your G-spot, violating it with his cock-head. You came and groaned, biting back another cry as the pleasure crashed throughout your body.

It stayed like that for a minute as he slowed his humping down to a stop, letting you keep a nice seat on his lap. All the two of you could hear were the sounds of your heavy breathing, mixed with the low hum of his car air conditioner. 

This is the perfect time to propose, “...About what I, um, said earlier…”

[colonelarr0w]

"My love, mine all mine"

JJK Characters as oddly specific romantic scenarios.

Contains -> Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Hiromi Higuruma, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

SATORU GOJO as randomly giving flowers.  

The action is unpredictable, unexpected — very similar to the unpredictable tendencies of the Special Grade. Gojo is never a one-trick pony, never does he want you to grow bored or tired of him (not that you ever will, obviously). Money did not matter to him, not when it came down to you. If a bouquet of flowers cost an arm and a leg, Gojo would gladly take a saw and get to work.  

If he happens to see a bouquet of flowers that would just look gorgeous on your desk, he’s throwing various bills at the florist and beelining for where he knows you’ll be. Gojo loves you, which is absolutely not a secret to anyone around him, and him randomly going out of his way to buy you flowers only reminds you of that bursting love that he has for you … and only you. And maybe, just maybe, he'll leave a small handwritten note with a scrawled declaration of just how much you mean to him.  

SUGURU GETO as admiring the rain. 

How serene and tranquil it is to just admire nature’s tears with Geto. Neither of you have to say anything, not that you want to — lest you want the loving silence to be tainted with whispered words. You don’t mind the silence, and nor does he. It's comfortable, peaceful, and it allows you both to momentarily forget about the world that you lived in. Instead, you could bask in the warmth that Geto emanates, clinging to it like a moth would cling to a light that they found.  

Geto’s arm is loosely draped over your waist, your side molding into his own like two pieces of a puzzle. Your head tucked against his shoulder, ears perked to listen to the rain’s gentle pattering. Geto’s fingers trace mindless shapes into your skin, content to sit in your presence. You carry with you a softness that Geto knew could never be replicated, reminding him that the things that have been done to him and by him are things long left in the past. For now, he could be Suguru – and he would only ever be Suguru around you.  

KENTO NANAMI as tying untied shoelaces.  

Late night walks where your shoes just won’t seem to cooperate. For as tight as the knots initially felt, they only loosened with each step you took. Even his steps had noticeably slowed to be in sync with your own, being sure to not accidentally leave you behind. Always attentive to you, reminding you that he loves you with a gentle squeeze to your fingers. The eyes behind his eyeglasses soften as you return his squeezes, but their softness is replaced then by a flicker of concern as you stumble, nearly rolling your ankle against the pavement.  

And so he pauses your walk, releasing the gentle grip he has on your hand and touching his knee to the ground. Fingers loop through the undone laces, expertly knotting them before softened eyes flicker up to your own. Your cheeks flush at the sheer adoration that swims in his eyes, your gaze flickering away from his own as a mumbled thanks falls from your lips. But he does not miss the curl of your lips – wearing that sweet smile that Nanami wishes that he could forever commit to memory. Nanami imagines an alternate scenario from his position, one where he holds silver and slips it onto your finger. Eventually… 

TOJI FUSHIGURO as late night drives.  

With gentle music and the soft rumble of the engine, it’s no wonder that you feel so incredibly safe sitting in the passenger seat of Toji’s (Shiu’s) car. Your hand rests on the back of Toji’s, which lays against your thigh — squeezing every few seconds in a silent ‘I love you’. His declaration spoken in a language that only you understand, one crafted for you and one used only when you were around.  

Your drives aren't known to have a set destination, just filled with senseless turns that never have a true end thought out. Many of them are silent, the car only filled with the sounds of your pre-prepared playlist of songs that both you and Toji enjoyed, but there are times where the car is filled with soft conversation recounting past experiences or simply reciting the day’s events. But one thing is for certain, only you could make the great Toji Fushiguro soft. 

CHOSO as shared routines.  

Your presence in Choso’s life has brought about notable changes to the course of his day — namely his routine and how he decides to spend the mornings and nights. What was once simply waking up and immediately moving about has now become remaining tangled in the sheets for five (sometimes ten) extra minutes. What was once a simple brushing of the teeth has now become a multi-step skincare routine and lengthy shower. 

His day just wouldn’t be the same without your shoulder brushing against his own as you both cleaned your teeth. It wouldn’t be the same without you brushing through his hair and styling it for him with the gentlest of hands. His nights wouldn’t be the same without your body against his in the bath, sponge rubbing away the day’s tension. And it certainly wouldn’t be the same without you wrapped in his arms, gentle snores fanning against his neck as you doze off — wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.  

RYOMEN SUKUNA as shared glances.  

They say that the eyes are the true window into the soul, detailing the true feelings of what resides within and bringing it forth in a discreet, almost unknown, manner. Fleeting glances can speak the same amount as a full-length conversation. Softened irises can shine with love and narrowed pupils can convey rage equivalent to that of a freshly sharpened dagger. Sukuna’s eyes were no exception to the rule — the love he held for you couldn’t be hidden behind pointed glares, not when they softened immediately upon finding you.  

The moment your eyes met his own, soft and gentle, something in him promptly melts. How funny that the King of Curses would find himself staring at you — a simple sorcerer — with crinkled eyes. Was he smiling? No, no he’d never admit to ever smiling, but the sight of you just brings one to his face so naturally. Your head turns so that your gaze meets his own, silently reading each other’s eyes before you smile at him. And though he wants so badly to scoff and turn the other way, for you … he returns it.  

HIROMI HIGURUMA as being picked up from work.  

It was no secret that there were creeps lining the streets of the city, prowling around underneath the cloak that night provided and waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Wandering around at night, while not inherently dangerous, did not sit well in the stomach of Hiromi. He knew that you were able to handle yourself well, you were no stranger to defending yourself in situations where you needed to – but he still could not quell the pit of worry that bubbled in the pit of his chest whenever you were kept late at your office.  

And so, to keep a sound mind, Hiromi would wait outside the double doors of your office building, smiling against your hair as your body molds into his own. His nose nestles itself into your hair, inhaling the familiarity of your scent – a soft mixture of lavender and rose. The hug lasts for as long as you need it to, broken only when you decide to take a step back. The passenger side door to Hiromi's car is then opened for you, your hand is held as you step inside, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek all before the door shuts.  

INO TAKUMA as sharing food.  

Relationships are meant to be 50/50, an even split that ensures that one party does not contribute more or less to the relationship than the other. To say that Ino believes in balance in his relationship with you would be the understatement of the century – he never wants you to feel as if you're doing too much or that he's doing too little for you. Ino also believes very heavily in sharing everything with you; personal stories, clothes, drinks, and of course, food.  

Never will he order the same thing as you, knowing that at one point or another, you'd try whatever snack or meal he had ordered for himself. Your eyes would flicker to his plate or to the ice cream in his hand, then to his eyes, silently asking permission. With a smile akin to that of a lovesick teenager, Ino extends whatever it is that he's eating to you, feeling his heart warm at the sound of your satisfied hum. You kiss his cheek in thanks before offering him whatever it was that you had ordered. Rinse and repeat, and suddenly you're both sharing two meals as opposed to enjoying one for yourself – and neither of you would change it for the world.  

YUUJI ITADORI as stargazing.  

Something about the silence that night provides paired with the gentle light that the stars in the night sky had always been so calming for you, always carrying with it a sense of serenity that could only be replicated by something as soft as a mother's love or a hug. And like a moth drawn to a light, you found yourself admiring those very stars every single night – now you had someone to share that peace with, someone to bask in the warm light that the stars provided.  

Laid out over a blanket, two pairs of eyes watch the twinkling stars with a fascination only replicated by that of a child. For a moment the world is silent, filled only with the sounds of your breathing and Yuuji's. His hand is intwined with yours, thumb rubbing back and forth against the backs of your knuckles. Your cheek is against his shoulder, both your eyes and his shut in complete serenity. Those are the nights where you can just be children, as in reality, it is what you both are.  

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO as interlocking pinkies.  

Not everyone is affectionate, not everyone is able to easily convey their love through prolonged physical touches such as a hug or a passionate kiss. Certain love languages come easily to some people, but to others it may be a touch more difficult. Some convey it through words, others convey it through actions that are a little more hidden, secretive. Megumi, for as quiet as he is, falls into the secretive category when it comes to displaying his love for you.  

He loves you, hell, he would devote himself to you entirely if given the chance, he just finds it a touch difficult to display that love for you through means of physical touch. That does not mean he won't hug you or indulge in your kisses, it just means that he may not be the one to initiate those actions. But there is an exception to this little rule, and that is the fact that Megumi will always link his pinkie with your own when walking on your side. The smile that worms its way onto his face the moment that his skin touches yours is missed by everyone, but never ever will it be missed by you – and to him, you are all that matters anyway.  

[on-leatheredwings]

False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.  

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events. 

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end. 

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated. 

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present. 

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard. 

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom. 

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose. 

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool. 

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens. 

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.” 

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well. 

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy. 

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful. 

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek. 

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?” 

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks. 

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips. 

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes. 

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright. 

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

… 

So, for the record, Damian did not lie. 

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth. 

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that. 

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals. 

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window. 

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.” 

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision –  Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat. 

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month. 

It all works out. 

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. 

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening. 

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book. 

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours. 

“Tt.” 

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work. 

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.” 

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights. 

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed. 

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–" 

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion. 

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?” 

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.” 

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed. 

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile." 

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself. 

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense. 

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief. 

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one." 

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know." 

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow. 

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him. 

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.” 

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation. 

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination. 

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish. 

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws. 

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.” 

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally. 

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement. 

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there. 

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening. 

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this. 

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning. 

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal. 

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation. 

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained. 

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears. 

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press. 

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.” 

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now. 

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet. 

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real. 

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke. 

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile. 

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke? 

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod. 

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.” 

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you. 

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly. 

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says. 

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles. 

It’s impossible.

[thatsdemko]

without me? - l.norris

masterlist | pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the silence he enters to is odd… but was there ever really any silence?

warnings: smut + not intended for minors + no plot?

a/n: reminder this is 18+ content!!! I need some serious motivation to write smut so if anyone has any….

there’s a stillness to the room that he just can’t describe. like everything in his apartment looks so picturesque, the sun setting, a dimly lit lamp in the corner. the eery sound of quietness are odd against his ears.

the sounds of the rubber against the pavement, the whirling of drills and tools, the vibration of the car still keep his body in working mode. the endorphins swell his brain with happiness and serenity as he walks from the living room towards the bedroom.

that’s when he finally begins to hear noise.

at first it’s just the faint sound of the mattress squeaking, then, he as steps closer, he can begin to hear the headboard rattling against the wall. whatever he was feeling in his brain shot straight down to his cock and spread an aching in him.

he couldn’t stand behind this door any longer. finally pressing his palm into the knob, he pushes the door gently. his eyes are greeted with the best sight; you. legs apart, vibrator in hand, your hair sprawled across the pillow case, and the oh so sweet sounds of your whimpers are flooding his eardrums.

he can’t help it, the smile that spreads is cocky. you look pathetic and helpless, like something was clearly holding you back, and god he couldn’t wait to put you out of your misery.

you didn’t head the door open, and you certainly didn’t hear the drop of his bags, but you did feel his hand grasp yours and toss the vibrator to the side.

“lando,” you whimper softly. your eyes flutter open for a brief second, you see he’s removing his belt from his waist, and in his own eyes he has some sort of thirst and desire he can’t resist.

you don’t blame him, you’d been waiting for him. you spent all afternoon cleaning to erase your mind from the nasty thoughts you had about your boyfriend. you could still see the ass and hand prints against the shower glass, you could still recall how he fucked you until both of you came collapsing onto the floor.

every part of this house was haunted with some sort sexual memory, and you had attempted to clean it all awaiting to start new ones, but that wasn’t enough. after all that, you still felt unfulfilled. so enter the vibrator, and now, finally, there was lando.

lando’s hips grind against yours, his cock fitting nicely inside you, warmth radiates off of him. your back arches in an automatic response, your body molding up into his, he pushes you down. it’s not stern, but it wasn’t a gentle gesture either, it was still hot coming from him. possessiveness was something lando never lacked.

his thrusts become harder, nonsensical words fall from his lips that range from “I missed you” to “fucking wet” and none of them strung a proper sentence. you just allowed him to take you to the place you couldn’t quite get to with a mechanical toy, and you thank him with peppering kisses to his neck that you know you’ll get shit for tomorrow.

“never fucking do that without me.” he grunts rolling off your body to lay beside you. he takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back up, “the place is too clean.” he states.

nodding your head you turn in his direction, “do you want to mess it up again?”

“fuck yes.”

[mangostarjam]

terms of address — kaiju no. 8, fluff, "sweetheart" as a pet name, hoshina soshiro x female reader, 1.6k words — part two, part three

"What's wrong, my dear? You look kinda… stressed."

"Stressed? Stressed?" you repeat, turning your disbelieving gaze upon the Third Division's Vice Captain. Hoshina Soshiro is frowning slightly, a faint downward tick to his mouth that others probably wouldn't even notice, but you — you've been his operations manager for a few years now, and you've had plenty of time to learn his quirks.

"Yeesh, I was just askin'," Soshiro says, "what're you doin' up, anyway? Ain't it past your bedtime?"

"I could say the same to you," you point out. You watch as he slides his practice blades home, pretending not to notice the flex of his arms in his stupidly fitted training uniform. Sometimes you wonder if he got his clothes a size smaller with the way they seem molded to every ridge and curve of his muscles, and then you mentally smack yourself because you should not be paying attention to him like that. He's your Vice Captain and that's it. That has to be it.

"You just got discharged from the hospital. Rest is important!"

"I'm alright," Soshiro waves you off, but takes the towel you wordlessly hold out for him to wipe at the sweat dripping down his face. The training room is quiet except for the buzz of fluorescents above you and the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest. Your Vice Captain seems content to stand close as he wipes himself down, emanating heat as you try to shrink into your borrowed Defense Force jacket.

This was a mistake. You should've just walked past the door and ignored the light on underneath — but the distinct sound of blades slicing through air at high speeds made your ears perk up, and before you could tell yourself not to do something stupid — well, you're here now.

"I couldn't sleep."

Soshiro raises an eyebrow at your confession and hangs the towel around his neck. He's still standing way too close, but it's… comforting. Confusing. Another little piece of the mystery that is Hoshina Soshiro, who always has a grin on his face except for when he's taking down kaiju. Your Vice Captain, who's started standing closer to you than normal, and asking you about the books stacked in your dormitory, and brushing his hand along the back of your chair as you sit in it.

"Because of the stress?"

"Yeah," you frown, tilting your head up to look him in the eye. Sweat has dampened his purple hair into a darker shade, a deep pretty color that nearly seems black except for where the light glints off the strands. Man, you really must have it bad if you're starting to find his sweaty hair attractive. "So you should be good and quit stressing me out."

Soshiro grins abruptly, light and lopsided as he tilts his own head to look at you appraisingly. "You were stressin' about me?"

"Obviously," you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a subtle step back. He mirrors your step seemingly subconsciously, ducking his head to hide the pleased curl of his mouth before he arranges his features into something more familiar to you when he meets your eye again. "You're my Vice Captain, after all. And you know I hate when you land in the hospital. I hate… seeing you get hurt."

Too much — too close to a confession. But the night air is still and your little bubble feels warm and comfortable and secret.

"That's why I've gotta get stronger, my dear," Soshiro says pleasantly. You take another step backwards and your heel hits the wall a second before your back meets the cold metal. Soshiro leans forward, bracing a strong arm against the wall by your head. "Next time I'll wipe the damn floor with that kaiju."

"Of course you will," you flush in spite of yourself. He's standing really close, practically pinning you to the wall, and this is so not normal Vice-Captain-and-Operations-Manager behavior that your lightning fast brain feels like it's short circuiting.

He smells good. Like… cypress. Something woodsy and fresh. You take a deep breath.

The column of his throat works and you watch, mesmerized by the strong cut of his jaw and totally distracted.

"So didja want some help?"

"H-help? With what?" You risk a glance back up just in time to see his gaze drag down to your lips.

No. There's no way —

"I could tell ya bedtime stories."

The ends of his towel swing forward and rest against the zipper of your borrowed jacket and the swell of your chest. You can feel his breaths against your face, but he makes no move to get any closer. "I doubt you know any good ones."

Soshiro laughs. His forehead presses against your own for a moment as he chuckles, and when he pulls back a little the grin on his face makes you beam up at him, delight swooping through your stomach at making him laugh.

"I could tell you training stories, then," he suggests. "Like the time Okonogi thought —"

"Nothing with Okonogi," you interrupt, flushing again when he pauses to regard you. "I just — she —"

"What's the matter? I thought you two got along…?"

This is so embarrassing. You should've just kept your mouth shut, but now Soshiro is looking at you intently and you don't want to give him the wrong idea about your relationship with your superior but if you admit the truth… it's embarrassing.

"You…"

"Me?" Soshiro moves to pull away and you reach up to grip the end of his towel before he can get too far, dropping it immediately when he freezes in place. Fuck, you shouldn't have done that.

"Tell me," he says quietly. "What is it, my dear?"

Your heart clenches in your chest. "You call her that, too. Do you use that for all the female operations managers?"

His eyebrows draw together for a second in apparent confusion before his entire expression brightens and he laughs. "Just you two," he admits, reaching up with his free hand to grip the loose ends of your hair lightly. "Okonogi and I have worked together for a while. I respect her. And you. But… I can call you somethin' else, if you'd like. If I'm allowed."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You curl your fingers around the ends of your too-long sleeves. "You… you're the only one who's allowed. You know that."

Soshiro says your name. Watches your reaction with a focus usually reserved for fighting kaiju. Twirls the strands of your hair gently around his fingers. "Too soon? Let's get you to bed, then. It's gettin' late."

"B-bed? Hoshina-san, Vice Captain sir, that's not — we can't —"

"Aw, don't worry, ya dope. I'm just escortin' you. These halls ain't safe for a cutie like you this late at night," Soshiro says easily, finally moving away and taking all of his warmth with him. You squeak in surprise at his words and he tosses you a grin over his shoulder.

"Sir —"

"Play fair, sweetheart," Soshiro says. Cutie?? Sweetheart?? Those are new ones. You become suddenly aware of how your heart is beating rabbit-fast.

He grabs one of your hands and tugs you forward, his smile growing lopsided when you squeak again and stumble after him. "What're you gonna call me from now on, huh? Everyone calls me Vice Captain or sir. You'd better come up with somethin' special."

Your Vice Captain leads you out of the training room before your brain can catch up, his hand firm around yours. Rough callouses scratch at your skin, but you squeeze his hand the instant he starts to loosen his grip. Soshiro glances back at you with a smile that makes your heart do something concerning in your chest.

"Hoshina…kun," you test the honorific in your mouth, glancing up in time to catch the way his ears redden beneath his hair. "Can I call you Hoshina-kun?"

Soshiro clears his throat and keeps walking. "'Course, sweetheart. But maybe just when we're alone."

"Huh?"

"Can't have ya makin' me shy in front of the officers," Soshiro says, facing resolutely forward. "I'd lose all my authority."

Oh. Oh…?

"Okay… Hoshina-kun."

Soshiro makes a funny little coughing noise and stops abruptly, turning to rest his free hand on your head, forcing your gaze downward. "Alrighty, then, cutie, time to sleep! I'll see ya tomorrow mornin', hm?"

You nod, eyes closed, trying your best to memorize the weight of his palm. Soshiro drags his hand downward, cupping your face for a moment and sweeping his thumb along your cheekbone before dropping it entirely to tug at the collar of your jacket.

"Okie dokie, now get inside," Soshiro says lightly. You risk a glance up and valiantly try to suppress a shiver down your spine at the expression on his face. "It ain't fair to look so good wearin' my jacket, y'know."

"I — it was on the back of my chair and I was… cold…"

Soshiro grins. "I figured you were. That's why I left it for ya."

"Thanks, Vice Cap— Hoshina-kun," you murmur, reaching for the door to your dormitory. Warmth is settling deep in your chest. You really shouldn't be doing this — letting him hold your hand, shifting your relationship in another direction, following the beats of your heart as his smile softens and you take a tiny step closer to him. This is inappropriate and dangerous, but… it's Soshiro.

"You're going to sleep now too, right?" you ask. The hallway lights flicker and buzz as he leans forward, tugging you close by the collar of your (his) jacket until he can press his forehead against yours. Your eyelashes flutter shut as his breaths puff across your lips, but he simply takes a deep breath before pulling away. His hand is warm around yours.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."